


Gifts of a Ghost

by AmethystTribble



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Caution Baby Elves as Play, Celegorm: a KNIFE, Feanor: NO, Feanor: what do you have, Finwe: Oh Valar why does he have a knife?!, Gen, Mahtan: Hell yeah!, Miriel's presence looms over this whole thing, POV Child, Pre-Darkening of Valinor, i'd tag her but she's not a speaking character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:28:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26177221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmethystTribble/pseuds/AmethystTribble
Summary: The Elves of Valinor don't have many ghosts, but young Tyelkormo is haunted by one in particular. She lingers in his hair, in his face, in his demeanor and words and actions. Tyelkormo- a child- doesn't notice how this impacts how his family treats him. Until he does.Celegorm investigates his paternal grandmother, discovers the concept of death, and explores his relationships with his grandfathers and grandmothers.
Comments: 30
Kudos: 61
Collections: Tolkien Reverse Summer Bang 2020





	Gifts of a Ghost

**Author's Note:**

> Art by the lovely @itarilles, who collaborated with me on the Reverse Bang /and/ beta'd this story for me! You can find her on Tumblr, please go look at her amazing artblog @ehhhtelion!! It'll be well worth your time.

For as long as Tyelkormo could remember, three or four times a year Grandfather would invite the whole family to the palace in Tirion for a party. “A luncheon,” was the word Grandfather and Lady Indis used to describe it, while Mother said it was, “a get-together.” Father called it, “an obligation.”

But Tyelkormo knew a party when he saw one. 

He didn’t have to dress in fancy clothes or answer questions for strangers, and there was hardly even lunch; just food platters spread out. It wasn’t one of those fancy lunches he sometimes had to go to, then. There were lots of people together, yes, but those were just Findekano and Findarato and Turukano, and their mothers and fathers and aunts. They didn’t count. They were family, though Tyelekormo hadn’t figured out how. Father- who knew everything- and Kano- who knew everything Tyelekormo was ‘too young’ to know- wouldn’t tell him, which exhausted all of his resources. 

But they still weren’t ‘get-together’ type people.

Grandfather’s parties were also fun. No one had to force Tyelkormo, and he didn’t drag his feet when sweets and playmates and the big palace gardens were on the horizon. Obligations were awful, and parties weren’t, and going to Grandfather’s wasn’t bad.

Which settled the matter in Tyelkormo’s mind.

Today, Tyelkormo got to wear his trousers to Grandfather’s party, because it rained yesterday. It didn’t rain in Tirion often, Father said it was only when, “a mood strikes Manwë,” with a look on his face that made Tyelkormo think he wanted to stick his tongue out. But Manwë must have been in an awful, terrible mood yesterday, because the day got dark, and it thundered and thundered, and there were disappearing flashes of light, and more water than Tyelkormo could hope to hold in _twelve buckets_ fell from the sky in great, heavy _splats_.

He watched it for hours.

And now the ground was nothing but mud, and it splashed everywhere as they rode into Tirion from their house beyond Tuna. None of them wore nice clothes, and Birdie- Mother’s mare, who was really named Surënora, but Tyelkormo liked Birdie better- was filthy up to her hindquarters, and so were the bottoms of Tyelkormo’s boots and Mother’s trousers. They could have gone slower and avoided the mud, but they were already _late, late, late_ , and Mother insisted they must hurry.

They were still last to arrive.

As Tyelkormo and his brothers were hastily scrubbed clean- except for Moryo, who was so small he missed the splatter, and was handed off to Grandfather- he spotted Findarato and Turukano and started to giggle. Findarato laughed with him, seemingly for no other reason than because Findarato was almost always jolly and laughing. Turukano simply watched them from behind his father’s robes, staring as he often did. He was only just barely not-a-baby, hardly older than Moryo. He watched rather than spoke most of the time, and Nelyo said that was just how Turukano learned. 

Tyelkormo didn’t understand how one could learn without questions and experimenting, but when he asked, Nelyo just gave him a nasty look. That told him that his older brother didn’t know either.

Once they were a little cleaner, Tyelkormo stood in a line with Maitimo and Macalaurë, and said his hello’s. There was, “Uncle Nolofinwë, good day,” and also, “Hello! Aunt Lalwendë!” Arafinwë smiled back and greeted Tyelkormo just as enthusiastically, asking what he thought of the storms. Findis said the rain was a good omen, and kissed his cheek when he called her ‘aunt’. 

Tyelkormo had always been very confused as to why he called Lady Indis’s children aunt and uncle when Father would say they _weren’t_ his aunts and uncles. But it made them happy, so he didn’t think about it much. Perhaps that was why Findarato and the others also called Grandfather ‘Grandfather’, to make him happy? Tyelkormo didn’t know, maybe he’d watch Turukano to figure it out.

Feeling a little wicked at the idea of copying him, Tyelkormo laughed. 

Eventually, they were released from the manners and towels to scamper towards the glass room. It wasn’t the room they usually had their parties in, that was a big, big garden room with only two walls and half a roof that opened up into the maze of flowers. But it was all wet, Lady Indis said. Well, she didn’t say it like that!

Lady Indis always spoke very quietly and her smiles were small and all her words sounded… careful to Tyelkormo. It was pretty, and the only person Tyelkormo knew who reminded him Lady Indis when they spoke was Father. But it was different. They were both… careful like birds. But they were different types of birds. Lady Indis was especially bird-like, though, because she was only loud when she sang. 

That’s when Tyelkormo liked her best. 

He took her hand as they walked to the glass room, listening as she said it had beautiful acoustics.

“Can you sing with Macalaurë today?” he asked Lady Indis, and she smiled for a brief moment- she never frowned, but only smiled for short while- and she nodded. She stared at him for a second longer than she did Kano, when he piped up to say he brought his harp. Lady Indis was always looking at him- like Turukano! Tyelkormo could see the family resemblance- and she always had weird eyes when she did. Not sad, not happy either, but different from her smiles.

He released her hand when they reached the glass room, running straight for the table with the food. Tyelkormo immediately grabbed one of the tarts, a red one, and stuffed the whole thing in his mouth. Nelyo ruffled his hair as he walked up beside him and reached for a yellow tart, then all the children were clustered around the table together.

Behind them, Tyelkormo heard Father sigh, but Mother just said, “There was going to be nothing for it.”

He just snatched a chocolate and laughed at the cream smeared on Findarato’s face. Tyelkormo spotted something in the hand Findarato wasn’t eating with. It was a little wooden toy boat! With a cloth sail. 

Tyelkormo gasped in awe.

“Fin-da-ra-to!” he called, drawing every one’s attention, “Does your boat float?”

Findarato nodded vigorously, saying, “Uh-huh!”

“Wow,” Findekano said, “Isn’t that amazing, Turno?”

Turukano hummed in agreement, looking around his big brother’s side with wide eyes.

Nelyo smiled at them all, and he said, “Would you like to show us your boat, Findarato? The creek outside is probably really high right now.”

They all cheered, and then it was a dash for the side door out of the glass room, with Kano leading the charge. Finadarato was closely behind him, and Tyelkormo ran with Nelyo. Arafinwë opened the door for them, and then he squeezed out ahead to Findarato, calling, “I’ll watch them,” over his shoulder.

Mud splashed in the doorway as they exited.

Tyelkormo was almost outside when he felt an arm reach around his stomach, though, and then he was pulled clean off his feet. He gasped and kicked in surprise, watching his brothers, Findekano, and Turukano run into the garden. A whine bubbled up as another arm came around to properly hole Tylekormo up, and he was turned around to look at Grandfather.

“Now, now, little one,” he said, “Why don’t you stay with me?”

Tyelkormo made another high noise, and he gripped at Grandfather’s robes as he asked, “Why?”

“Why not? I could tell you a story, hm?”

“But I wanna…” Celegorm trailed off, because- though he looked longingly towards where he could see the others traipsing through the mud- he did not quite know how to say no to Grandfather. Father always acted so different around Grandfather, following rules, smiling oddly, and wanting them to look and act their best around him. And everyone did what Grandfather said! 

And, though he often smiled, the way Grandfather’s face crinkled always looked sad to Tyelkormo.

He did not want to make Grandfather sad. 

“The water is high and the ground is slippery. It’s too dangerous out there for you, little one. Let’s stay inside for now, we can sail boats another time.”

“Turukano and Findarato are outside, and they’re smaller than me,” Tyelkormo grumbled, but he wrapped his arms around Grandfather’s neck and leaned against him.

“Perhaps I will go and fetch Turukano and Findarato, then,” Grandfather said. 

But he didn’t.

They walked over to a plush chair near the windows, away from where Mother and Father were talking with Earwen, and Lady Indis was standing with Nolofinwë and Anairë. Grandfather sat down with Tyelkormo in his lap. Tyelkormo brought his hands down to twist his shirt, and he swung legs in between Grandfather’ knees, rocking back and forth and pounting. He didn’t want to sit anymore, he’d sat all morning with Mother.

At least riding was exciting. 

“Let’s see,” Grandfather said with a grin, and Tyelkormo tried to make himself behave. “What kind of story would you like to hear?”

“One about storms,” he said, looking out the window towards the gardens again.

“Very well then. A story about storms. And how about your grandmother, as well?” Grandfather asked, and he ran his hand down Tyelkormo’s hair, tugging on the end of his low ponytail.

“Grandmama?” Tyelkormo muttered. He didn’t know Grandfather had stories about Grandmama, or even that they were friends. Grandpapa told all kinds of tales about Grandmama making statues to ward off the monsters across the sea or her molding vases to hold anything and never break. But Grandfather had never seemed to like the kinds of stories that made Grandpapa and Grandmama howl with laughter. But maybe when he was younger?

“Yes, Tyelkormo,” Grandfather said excitedly, “Your grandmother and storms. This was some time ago, before you or your father were born. During the days after we first came across the sea, we were in awe of the new land we had found ourselves in. It was beautiful, seemingly boundless, and _safe_. And there was much to explore. On your grandmother’s advice, the two of us traveled north. We desired to see every inch of our kingdom, and the colder, wilder lands had escaped our eye thus far.

“We went to the land you now know as Formenos,” Grandfather said, giving a soft bop to Celegorm’s nose, making him giggle.

“Once there, Grandmother and I decided to leave our retinue behind. Together, we wandered into the vast forest and sweeping mountains, awed at how similar and yet how different it was from Cuivienen. We surveyed the rock and the timber, the berries and herbs and roots. The animals, the streams. Grandmother drew approximations of every specimen upon what felt like the limitless supply of paper we now have, and we estimated abundance and usefulness of all we found. And so long were we at our task, that we did notice the northern, more temperamental sky grow dark and heavy.

“Soon, the clouds opened up above our heads, and rain came down in torrents. We were soaked before we even knew what had happened! With our horses in hand, we ran back towards a cave we had catalogued earlier, and took shelter there. Lightning flashed across the sky, striking a tree in the distance and briefly making fire and smoke rise in the air. There was no lasting damage, but as the air boomed and crackled, we decided we would wait out the storm in our relative shelter. 

“But there was naught for us to do! We had no amusements but our work, no food but our scientific collections, and nothing we dared make a fire with. All we could do was watch the storm, but even that grew unsatisfying after some time. For a moment, I wondered if we would either languish in boredom or have to sleep the rest of the day away.”

“You could have just played without toys,” Tyelkormo piped up. “Nelyo, Kano, and I do it all the time. Wrestling and pretending and stuff.”

Grandfather’s lips pressed together in a tight smile, his eyes crinkling with amusement. 

“The idea did cross my mind,” he admitted with a laugh in his voice. “But, no. Your grandmother- ever clever, ever inventive and ingenuitive- found another way to occupy our minds and bodies. From a small deposit in the cave, she unearthed a certain manner of rock, flaky and soft, white and orange. And when you scraped this rock against another surface, it left behind parts of itself, creating a mark as ink would. Grandmother took this rock, and used it to sketch out a square upon the wall.

“‘Come,’ she said, ‘help me make a tapestry of chalk upon this cave, hidden from all but us.’”

Grandfather laughed wetly, turning away briefly. Tyelkormo did not understand what was funny or what had suddenly made Grandfather look sad again. Or how he could have both emotions at once. Tyelkromo was just confused, because as far as he knew, Grandmama did not make tapestries and she did not draw much beyond abstract colors.

Grandfather continued before Tyelkormo could become truly lost, though, saying, “Together, we tried to recreate all that we had seen that day, from the flowers and the deer to the mushrooms and frightful looking fish. She stood upon my shoulders to draw the treetops and the birds. It was in only one color, but had so much… it became amazingly detailed, our tapestry upon the cave wall. And in the middle, we copied ourselves, together in the world we had created for ourselves. 

“When we finally looked up from our work, the storm had passed. The world outside our cave waited for us, and it was more beautiful than what we could create. With cupped hands, we gathered rain water and mud. We erased our tapestry from the wall, leaving behind… only- only traces. It was a memory, a vision that was meant for us alone. Something beautiful that only we shared.”

Grandfather gave a slight, shallow huff that might have been a laugh. Then he smiled with his sad eyes, and leaned down to lay a kiss on Tyelkormo’s hair. 

“Us,” Grandfather said, “and now you, Tyelkormo. You are so like her, I don’t think she would mind that you are in on the secret.”

Tyelkormo did not reply, instead tilting his head to the side, as if looking at Grandfather at another angle would help him understand. He did not think they were talking about Grandmama. But then, who?

Grandfather did not seem to notice his confusion. He had not stopped speaking.

“That is why you must be careful, little one. We thought fleeting beauty was marvelous because we believed that nothing in this land was innately temporary. But that- things came to pass that… we were wrong. That is why we must guard what little there is left of what is gone, yes?”

Though Grandfather waited for an answer, Tyelkormo remained silent. He tilted his head in the other direction. Did Grandfather want him to find the mural in the cave and fix it?

He shook his head rapidly.

“I don’t get it.”

“Ah,” Grandfather muttered in reply, his eyebrows furrowing together. He looked guilty for a moment, before his eyes narrowed once more in sorrow. “No, that is not- It is of no worry, Tyelkormo. Here.”

Grandfather gently nudged and settled Tyelkormo to the ground.

“Your cousins and brothers have returned from the gardens. You ought to go and enjoy your time together now.”

Tyelkormo paused, just studying his Grandfather for a second longer. But he was no Turukano, and he swiftly turned around on his heel, and dashed away. He ran straight to Nelyo, grabbing the brother’s arm in both hands. Nelyo asked what was wrong, but Tyelkormo just stood closer with a shake of his head. Maitimo let him be. 

As Nelyo and Findekano played jacks, Tyelkormo sat with them, picking at his shoes. He did not like the look about Grandfather after telling that story. Not how his body had tensed and drooped in his shoulders, not his grasping fingers, not his stupid, sad eyes on his lying face. Father was sometimes like that. But Tyelkormo never had to watch him like that for long, because Mother always sent them away. Then everything was better in the morning and Father was Father again, so it had never really mattered to Tyelkormo before. 

He’d never thought about it much before. But now he was, and he didn’t really care for it. 

Tyelkormo was thankfully shaken from his thoughts, though, by a plop next to him. He barely had time to recognize the golden head of hair, when Findarato whined, “Tyelkormo, you missed my boat.”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, “Grandfather wanted to tell a story.”

“Oh?” Findarato wondered, bouncing back to cheerfulness easily, as he often did. It was why Tyelkormo liked him. “Was it a good story?”

It was a very weird story, that made Grandfather all droopy eyed and wet-voiced, and Tyelkormo had not understood who the people in it were, nor why Grandfather was talking about things going away. So, he said, “No! It was weird. Grandfather said it was about ‘Grandmother’, but it wasn’t. Grandmama would’ve said if she and Grandfather went on a trip, she’s always telling trip stories.”

Tyelkormo stuck out his tongue with a waggle of his head.

Findarato didn’t say anything back, just making a small hum. He turned his head this way and that, and Tyelkormo followed his gaze to Grandfather and Lady Indis. When he looked back at Findarato, it was as he muttered a small, “Ooohhh.”

“What?” Tyelkormo asked.

“What about your other grandmother?” Findarato said instead of making things easy, an excited grin coming to his face. 

“I don’t have another one,” Tyelkormo explained with a scowl. Why was Findarato asking stupid questions?

“Everyone has two grandmothers, Turko, unless their mother or father was Unbegotten. Everyone knows that.”

“Well, I don’t have two and that’s that!”

“Yes, you do,” Findarato insisted, “I’ve seen her.”

“What, no!” Tyelkormo exclaimed, but he didn’t protest when Findarato pulled him up to his feet. 

“I’ll show you,” he said, leading Tyelkormo out of the glass room and into the hallway, and down the seemingly limitless corridors of the palace. Findarato wound his way towards the private quarters, but he walked right past their guest rooms and Grandfather’s chambers. Tyelkormo followed behind quietly, trying to understand where, why, and how a grandmother- his grandmother- would be hiding in the palace without him ever meeting her.

The corridors grew darker as they kept walking, and quieter. Dustier. 

“Where are we?” Tyelkormo asked, and Findarato shrugged.

“I found this stuff while I was exploring.”

Tyelkormo whined low in his throat, jealous.

“I want to explore the palace. When’d you do that?”

“Uncle’s begetting day.”

Tyelkormo had no idea when that was, but he knew he hadn’t been there. He didn’t like that Findarato was at the palace more often than him. His family was never there without Findarato and Findekano’s families also being there.

“That’s stupid,” he muttered, lip quivering a little. But before he could get really mad, Findarato ran ahead to push a door open. Tyelkormo moved to catch up, stumbling into the secret room and blinking against the dark.

As Findarato went to yank open the curtains, Tyelkormo looked around, gaping slightly. He made a questioning noise at all the stuff cluttered together. The massive loom caught his eye first. Then he noticed the trunks of fabrics and yarns, the needles that littered every surface- loom needles, knitting needles, sewing needles, embroidering needles, all of which Tyelkormo recognized- the rolled up rugs, and even half-made baby toys with stuffing falling out of them. It reminded him of a crafting studio, a weaving and sewing one. Father had taken Tyelkormo to visit the Tirion weaving guild last year, and all this stuff was there too.

What there hadn’t been at the guild, though, was the clutter and the dust. The cold. This room felt… frigid, but not the type of that made Tyelkormo shudder. Rather, there was no life here, no spirit. It had been abandoned, and that made it cold. 

The light that Findarato brought in by opening the curtains didn’t help much, but it did chase off some of the shadows.

“Do you see?” Findarato cried, but Tyelkormo didn’t. He was standing with his hands fisted in his shirt, looking at the loom. He could see and _feel_ that no one had touched it in years and years, and that made his chest hurt a little. He could not imagine what Father’s forge would feel like abandoned, or Mother’s studio, or any place in Grandpapa’s and Grandmama’s house. Crafting things shouldn’t be left to languish too long, it would make them blue and hollow and unable to work right anymore. He knew that. 

Why had this loom been left here, all alone?

“Look!” Findarato cried, sounding just a little frustrated. He snatched Tyelkormo’s hand and pulled him over baskets towards the far wall, pointing aggressively. Tyelkormo finally looked away from the loom and up, and his eyes fell on the massive tapestry hanging over the wall.

“Oh,” he muttered in surprise.

It was Grandfather! Tyelkormo could identify him in an instant. Brought together by black and blue and gold thread, Grandfather’s visage glimmered faintly, a small smile woven on his face. His arms stretched out, green rings stitched around his fingers, and he was grasping someone else’s hand. A lady stood next to Grandfather in the tapestry, one Tyelkormo didn’t recognize. But something about her woven face seemed impish and familiar. Silver hair fell around her shoulders and the threads mixed with the red of her clothes, glittering like Grandfather. 

“Don’t you see?” Findarato asked. “She’s got the same hair as you.”

Not looking away and gaping slightly, Tyelkormo brought his hand up to run through his hair. The lady’s hair did look silver and fine, but darker than Lady Earwen’s. Dusky, silver ‘like iron, rather than clouds or seaspray’ Father would say. 

Father… Yes, that was who her nose and smile and crinkled eyes reminded Tyelkormo of. 

“And you say she’s my grandmother?” Tyelkormo whispered, tearing his eyes away from the tapestry to look at Findarato.

“It makes sense!” he insisted excitedly, leaning closer. “See, she’s with Grandfather and she looks like you!”

“But what about Lady Indis?” Tyelkormo asked, and his insides were twisting up nastily. He didn’t like this. He didn’t think they were supposed to be here, looking at these abandoned things. The tapestry was so lovely, bright with feä like Mother and Father’s creations. It made their gems and statues feel alive, and so was this tapestry. Someone’s spirit lingered here, but… “And where is this lady? If she’s my grandmother?”

If she was Father’s mother? 

Father never talked about having a mother- a mama, an ammë, a someone to wipe away tears and run in the garden with- but Tyelkormo had never thought it odd. That was just Father. He was so smart and clever and talented and could do so many things that nobody else could, it made sense that there were some things he didn’t have that everyone else did. But did he… had he ever… was there… 

Tyelkormo clenched his jaw and whined low in his throat. 

Findarato had looked away at his questions, evidently not having figured out that much. While he kicked his feet at the musty rug, Tyelkormo turned back to the tapestry. 

Had Grandfather been talking about this lady earlier? 

Tyelkormo gave a confused huff and chewed on his finger. He didn’t like this. He didn’t like this room, or the look of that lady next to Grandfather or not knowing what was going on.

But maybe… maybe that was a little exciting.

There was a mystery!

But thinking of it that way didn’t make Tyelkormo feel much better, and he sighed. He wanted to leave this place, and find Kano to ask him what he thought. Then maybe they could go explore other, less weird rooms.

“Findarato,” he asked, turning, “do you wanna go back? Get the others?”

Findarato blinked his wide eyes at Tyelkormo, face blank and a little intense. Scary, for just a second. Then he nodded and smiled.

“Okay!” he chirped, “Turno knows all the-“

“There you two are!”

They whirled around to see Nelyo standing in the doorway with his hands on his hips. He leaned forward to scowl at them. Then, with an outstretched hand, gesturing for them to come closer to him, Nelyo said, “You know, Father and Grandfather are all upset that you disappeared, got lost, and hurt your stupid selves or something, and I had to go look. Kano’s probably taken my spot at jacks by now, you know.”

“We weren’t making trouble!”

Tyelkormo tip-toed and tripped his way over to Nelyo, huffing. He pushed his cheeks out all the way, face growing red with indignation. Nelyo was nearly double his height, but Tyelkormo craned his head up to glare at his brother.

“We were just exploring. Findarato says he does it all the time.”

“Findarato’s younger than you,” Nelyo insisted, crossing his arms. “You shouldn’t be doing what he says, you should tell him not to be naughty-“

“Maitimo,” Findarato bursted in, jogging up with a smile and not a care for any trouble they might be in. He pointed towards the tapestry. “Do you know who that lady is?”

Wrinkling his nose in annoyance, Nelyo looked up towards the far wall. Tyelkormo watched as his face changed, though, growing long as his mouth dropped open and his eyes widened at the sight of the tapestry. Just as quickly, Nelyo’s eyebrows furrowed and he bit his lip. Then he looked away.

“I’ll tell you when we get home,” Nelyo muttered, grabbing both Tyelkormo and Findarato’s hands.

As he pulled them out into the hallway, Tyelkormo looked back at the dusty, dark room as the door was kicked shut. He could suddenly feel the air he was breathing acutely. It was darker in the halls, but Tyelkormo’s eyes burned from the transition, tears pricking at the corners.

He was still looking back when Findarato whined, “But I asked and I won’t go home with you. I want to know!”

“Then ask _your_ father, I’m not getting in trouble for it,” Nelyo snapped back. 

Tyelkormo looked back at Nelyo, making a questioning noise.

“Trouble?”

The lights grew brighter and more common, and laughter could be heard in the distance. The glass room was coming back into view. Nelyo pursed his lips at the sight and squeezed Tyelkormo’s hand.

“Not here,” he hissed.

Then they walked into the blinding light of the glass room. 

Shouts and calls of their names hit them instantly. Nelyo let go of their hands as Father, Earwen, and Grandfather approached. Annoyance, amusement, and relief etched on their faces respectively. Tyelkormo lost sight of Findarato and Nelyo as he was forcefully scooped up for the second time that day, this time by Father. He was cradled close, his face tucked against Father’s neck by a gentle head on the back of his head.

“Turkafinwë, you menace. Where have you been?” Father whispered.

Tyelkormo looked up at him through both of their hair, black and silver falling together. It reminded him of the tapestry, of the black and silver thread on the navy background standing out together. Nothing at all like how Father and Mother… and Nelyo and Kano… looked together.

He closed his eyes and buried his face deeper in Father’s shoulder. 

“An adventure,” Tyelkormo said.

Father’s chest rumbled as he gave a breathy laugh. He smoothed a hand down the back of Tyelkormo’s head, bouncing him some.

“I see. What manner of adventure?” 

Tyelkormo kicked his legs some. He pulled back from Father, though, lifting his face up. He could not look him in the eyes, though. Remembering Nelyo’s warning, Tyelkormo said, “Just a silly one. We got lost in the halls.” 

With worry in the crinkles of his odd smile, Father said, “Well, it’s a good thing Nelyafinwë found you.”

Tyelkormo just nodded, because he wasn’t quite sure what to say.

As he was taken towards Mother, though, he pawed gently at the strands of Father’s hair, braiding it with his own. 

When they rode home late in the afternoon, Tyelkormo still didn’t have the words he needed to describe what was bothering him. He just didn’t understand. But Tyelkormo also didn’t understand what he didn’t understand. It made him fidgety and angry, kicking his feet and shoving at Mother’s hand when they were upon Birdie. He whined and yelled the whole way home, behaving so badly he was warned to “not act ugly.”

He stuck his tongue out at that, and was then sent straight to bed after dinner. 

Tyelkormo did not sleep, partly because he was angry at being sent away and wanted to throw a fit. But also because he was still upset and confused and even as he _did not_ think about his many questions, he could feel that something was missing now. It gnawed at him. 

While lying in the dark of his bedroom, Tyelkormo watched his curtains while biting on his blanket. The silver light of Telperion came in around the edges and under the cloth. Against his dark blue curtains, it reminded him of the tapestry, of the soft glow of the thread in the dusky room. It made Tyelkormo think of his own hair when held up against the stars.

He didn’t like that Findarato might be right about the hair.

Huffing, Tyelkormo kicked his blankets violently, swinging out of the bed.

Mother had come to see him earlier, telling him that a foul mood was not good reason to be mean or rude. She’d brought him milk with honey that he got once he apologized, and his punishment ended; his door was left open. Tyelkormo was still angry that he’d been in trouble at all when he wasn’t the one keeping secrets, but he was happy Mother wasn’t too upset with him. He was also glad that he could sneak into Nelyo and Kano’s room. 

When he cracked open their door to peak in, their curtains were wide open and light was pouring in. Kano’s bed next to the window was empty, and instead there were two lumps under the covers of Nelyo’s. Tyelkormo could hear them whispering, and neither perked up when he padded inside, closing the door behind him. 

Grinning a little wickedly, he bent, then charged forward. Tyelkormo jumped up onto the end of the bed and then leapt again to land right on top of his brothers. From beneath the blankets he’d accidentally pinned down, squeals erupted and kicking legs shot up. Tyelkormo laughed quietly, mindful of their parents down the hall and the baby in the nursery nearby. He settled, though, instead of jabbing Kano in the ribs and starting a proper brawl as he usually would. Rather, he flopped down between his brothers on top of the covers, lying still and waiting for them to emerge and orient themselves. 

Nelyo and Kano popped up looking like a pair of disgruntled gophers, Tyelkormo thought, with their hair stuck up and eyes small in anger. He would have teased them about it, but he knew that he had already delayed enough in his original intent. 

So, before his brothers could berate him, Tyelkormo said, “Nelyo, we’re home. You said you’d tell me about the lady when we got home, and now we’re home, so you have to tell me. You have to, you have to, you have-”

A pillow hit Tyelkormo across the mouth, sending him back down onto the mattress with an _oof._

“Okay,” Nelyo whined above him, drawing out the word and clutching the pillow tight. “Just be quiet.”

“What’s he talking about?” Kano piped up, never one to be left out of a conversation for long. He addressed Nelyo, like he always did, never looking at Tyelkormo when all of them were in the room together, like he was some kind of baby who couldn’t answer questions. 

It always made him angry, made Tyelkormo say, “It’s about-”

Nelyo threw the pillow at him again, and while Tyelkormo flailed and huffed, he said, “He’s talking about…”

Nelyo hushed himself, and then he looked towards the door and towards the window. He brought his hand up to cup around his mouth. When he spoke again, it was at a whisper, saying, “Miriel. About Father’s mother.”

“I knew it,” Tyelkormo whispered, infected by the cautious mood, “I knew Father had to have one.”

“No, you didn’t, I bet Findarato figured it our for you,” Nelyo said, rolling his eyes.

“No, he didn’t!” he snapped back, but Kano shushed him, louder than Tyelkormo had been in the first place.

“We’re not supposed to talk about it, except with Mother,” Kano said, still looking at Nelyo and giving him a hard look. 

“ _He asked._ ”

“Doesn’t mean you should answer, dummy.”

“Shut up! Turko,” Nelyo said, turning his attention back to Tyelkormo so fast, he jumped under his older brother’s glare. “Do you _swear_ you can keep you mouth shut? Around Father and Grandfather _especially_ , but everyone? We’re not supposed to talk about this.”

“That’s what I said,” Kano grumbled.

Tyelkormo gaped at Nelyo slightly, more confused than when he entered the room. And just a bit frightened, like he had been in the abandoned room. There were some things you were not meant to touch, like ivy with too-white veins or snakes that had red and yellow stripping or sheer ice. Tyelkormo could feel that to touch that room had been to touch… danger; pain. 

He didn’t like it.

But- even as he pulled his legs up to his chest to feel smaller and safer- Tyelkormo could still… that confusion was clawing at him like a little squirrel caught in his chest. The ‘ignorance’, as Father always said, was drowning him from the inside. He wasn’t curious, per se, but Mother said it was their duty to always try to understand. 

“I swear,” Tyelkormo whispered. 

He’d keep his mouth shut, he would. Tyelkormo had never been a tattle-tale or a spoil-sport or a cry-baby. He understood when to do things himself and not tell anyone. 

Nelyo knew Tyelkormo was good at keeping quiet, too, and Tyelkormo was pretty sure that was why he nodded readily. 

“Okay,” he said, and then Nelyo was sliding back under the covers. He pulled Tyelkormo down with him, and Kano threw the sheet over all three of them, sequestered together in their quiet space. Tyelkormo could feel Kano’s elbows pinching his back and Nelyo’s feet kicked his, but suddenly his brother’s bed felt like the most sacred place in Arda. 

And he was about to learn one of Arda’s great secrets.

“Miriel,” Nelyo said as Tyelkormo waited with bated breath, “is Father’s mother. She was Grandfather’s wife.”

Tyelkormo made a small questioning noise, tilting his head further into a pillow. Something about that didn’t sound right, sounded off from the words people would normally use, sounded…

_“Was?”_ he asked incredulously.

Nelyo nodded. 

“She’s dead.”

There was a moment wherein Kano shuddered behind him, and Nelyo’s face looked scrunched in pain, his body wound tight. Tyelkormo in the middle of them, just breathed as he waited. But neither of them said anything. Then he realized they were waiting on him. 

Because he couldn’t think of anything better to say, Tyelkormo whispered, “What’s ‘dead’?”

Kano made a squeak, like Tyelkormo had said a nasty word, while Nelyo closed his eyes and let out a long, sad sigh that didn’t look right on his round face. 

Tyelkormo felt keenly that he had said something wrong, like he’d uttered the Dark One’s name or called one of his brothers the f-word, as Father sometimes called Nolofinwë. Was that why he couldn’t say anything about ‘dead’ to others? Was it trouble? What kind? Was Father’s mother ‘in trouble’ like danger or like punishment? 

Tyelkormo was starting to imagine that the lady with his hair was truly trapped inside that tapestry or that she was a servant of the Dark One, when Nelyo opened his mouth to speak again.

“It’s… do you really not know?” Nelyo asked, his face blotchy with misery. When Tyelkormo just shook his head though, he sighed.

“Okay, uh… it’s like… flowers. You remember that time you poured the lemon juice in the daisy pot?”

Tyelkormo did. The flowers had wilted and fallen off the vine. And unlike the garden during the milder months, the petals and leaves hadn’t come back. There had been no buds, no new roots, no… coming back. 

“Like that?” he muttered, biting at his thumb.

“Like that,” Kano said from behind, “and like with the meat we eat with dinner and stuff. ‘Cause the animals are killed-”

“Kano! One thing at a time, leave him alone.”

Kano quieted at Nelyo’s harsh look. Tyelkormo almost wanted to complain that he wasn’t a baby, that he could know the stuff, that he wasn’t afraid. But instead he was digging his head further into the pillows, hiding his eyes from the soft light of his brothers and from Telperion coming in through the window. He didn’t like what Nelyo was saying. He didn’t like ‘dead’. 

Because a flower was one thing, but…

“So Daddy’s mama went away and didn’t come back,” he whispered, tears pricking at his eyes.

He could only imagine that beautiful lady with her hair falling from her head like leaves, her body shriveling like a starved vine, the roots- her light, her spirit, her very self- losing color. Dead? 

“Yes,” Nelyo said, “Grandmother went away and won’t come back. She’s dead.”

Like muddy water washing away a mural… 

A loud sob crawled up Tyelkormo’s throat and heat flashed across his face; he could feel the pillow growing wet beneath him. No wonder Grandfather was so sad. _Dead, dead, dead,_ gone and never coming back, it was so awful. It made him so sad to think about, to imagine. Tyelkormo started to cry and cry, and he didn’t want to stop. He opened his mouth and a wail came out and he started to choke on the force of his tears.

His brothers rushed to quiet him, petting his hair and rubbing his arms and shushing him. But all it made him do was turn away from them, shoving his face in the pillow and biting down on it, crying more quietly. He didn’t want to look at them, he didn’t want to look at Kano and Nelyo and see them wilting. 

Tyelkormo cried harder.

“Oh,” Kano cried above him, “this is awful, I’m going to get Mother! This is all your fault, Nelyo!”

“My fault! You’re the one who mentioned the animals, you know how he is about the animals!”

“Shut up! Mother! Mother, Tyelkormo is crying!”

Kano’s voice faded away, gone away until Tyelkormo could barely hear it. Tyelkormo sat up straight when he could no longer hear his brother. He looked towards the empty doorway and another round loud and wet sobs wracked his body. _Don’t leave_ , he wanted to beg Kano. When he was dragged up onto Nelyo’s lap, he clung to his brother’s shoulders, terrified of what would happen if he let go. Tyelkormo dug his fingernails into Nelyo’s back to make sure his skin was soft and strong. 

“Don’t be dead,” he cried, and Nelyo made a strangled noise.

He shoved Tyelkormo back and reached up to cup his wet, sticky face. 

“Turkafinwë, I’m not going to die!” Nelyo insisted, tears falling from his eyes, too. “Elves don’t die! Not like plants or animals, I’m fine!”

“But Grandmother-”

“Was _special_. Only her. No one else is going to die, she was different, now shush about all this stuff, please, if Mother and Father find out-”

Footsteps pounded down the hallway, much larger than Kano’s paters, but Tyelkormo was still whimpering and hiccuping and crying. He couldn’t help another loud wail when Mama came into the room, and he held out his arms for her. She scooped him up in an instant, sitting on the bed with him cradled close, saying, “Oh, baby, it’s okay, baby, Mama’s here.”

Tyelkormo cried against her breast, but quieted some as her hand ran through his hair. He listened closely to the sound of her heartbeat, sniffling. Mama was soft and warm, and she sounded sad that he was sad, and that made Tyelkormo want to swallow his noises and choke back his tears. When he tried to wipe his face with his sleeve, Mama quickly took his hand and used her own sleep-shirt to rub his tears and snot away. 

“There we go, my sweet,” she said, “there’s no need to cry. Daddy and I are right here, we’ll make whatever’s wrong go away. What’s wrong, baby?”

“Yes,” Daddy’s voice came from over Tyelkormo’s shoulder, sounding much sterner than Mama. “What is wrong?”

Tyelkormo turned to look at Kano’s bed, where Father sat with his arm around Kano and Nelyo sniffling on his own lap. Father looked cross, giving a hard look to Nelyo and Kano, who were both staring at the ground, the perfect picture of guilt. Nelyo bit his lip, then opened his mouth, and Tyelkormo felt his own rush of fear.

“A scary story!” he cried suddenly, drawing Mother, Father, Nelyo, and Kano’s attention. He hiccuped, new tears coming to his eyes as he looked down and lied. “I said I wanted scary stories, and Nelyo and Kano told some and I got scared.” 

“What on Arda were they telling you?” Mother said, drawing him closer.

“Stupid stuff. About- ‘bout mean animals and plants and stuff.”

“ _Boys_ ,” Father sighed through gritted teeth, but all the anger was gone. He just sounded tired. “You know how Turkafinwë is about the animals and garden, you ought not try to make him frightened of what he loves.”

“Sorry,” Kano muttered.

Nelyo, though, just hiccuped again and leaned his head against Father. Tyelkormo thought he might have seen fresh tears in the silver light before Nelyo turned away, but he wasn’t sure. Father wrapped an arm tightly around Nelyo’s shoulder and rubbed his back.

“Now, I know you feel bad for upsetting your brother, Nelyafinwë. You should apologize, as well, though.”

“I’m sorry, Turko,” he whispered, and he said it like the ‘sorry’ was meant to do more than just make Mother and Father leave them alone. It made Tyelkormo want to start crying miserably all over again. 

“I’m sorry I cried and yelled,” he sniffled. Because he wasn’t a cry-baby or a tattler, he _wasn’t_. But he was sorry that he almost was one.

Mother stood up, and as she fixed Tyelkormo on her hip, she said, “Nonsense. When you’re frightened you should cry for help.”

“There’s no shame in accepting help from those you love,” Father agreed. He carefully turned Nelyo from his lap- for he was much too big to carry- and shuffled Kano under his sheets. Tyelkormo clung to Mother as Father settled Nelyo into bed, as well, touching the strands of her bright, red hair. Tyelkormo’s hair didn’t look like hers. His was so fair and fine that when it mixed with Mother’s it was lost, glimmering faintly but indistinguishable. 

He played with their hair, shoving it together and separating it and wondering why his own didn’t look like Mother’s or Father’s, and his heart started to hurt. 

Tyelkormo was trying very hard to keep from crying again as Father and Mother walked out into the hall. He wrapped his arms around Mother’s neck and asked if he could sleep with them. Mother agreed, and Father laid a kiss on his head before leaving to, “check on Morifinwë. I swear that child could sleep through Dagor Dagorath, but I’m going to make sure.”

For the first time in Tyelkormo’s life, though, when he laid down in his parents’ bed with Mother, he didn’t feel safe. He shivered beneath the warm quilts and Mother’s strong arms suddenly seemed fragile. 

“Mama,” he whispered, and she hummed to show she was listening, her arm tossed across him and fingers scratching his scalp. It made him feel sleepy, if not totally better. Tyelkromo was fighting against heavy eyelids when he said, “I’m sorry about the daisies.”

Tyelkormo did not hear Mother’s reply, if she gave one at all, but he did feel Father settle on the other side of him, so warm it was almost uncomfortable. Except that it was Father, and he was always hot and bright and burning, and Tyelkormo liked that about him. Father felt safe. But when Father wrapped his arms around both him and Mother, Tyelkormo’s chest hurt like there was a rock on top of him.

_I’m sorry about your mama, Daddy_ , was Tyelkormo’s last thought as he fell asleep.

And in the morning, he could not look any of his family in the eyes. 

Tyelkormo could only pay attention to many plants scattered around their home, had to follow after the kitchen cat all day to make sure it was okay, snuck out of bed to sleep in the stable one night to watch after the horses, then he made his bed with the new puppies and their mother the next day. 

Nelyo said-

Nelyo promised-

Well, when Tyelkormo asked Kano again, he swore up and down that Elves don’t just ‘die’. Something had to cause it, but Kano hadn’t known what. The animals- the pretty birds, the sweet rabbits, the gentle deer, the funny chickens- and the flowers, trees, roots, mushrooms, weeds, all of it… that was a different matter. Tyelkormo refused to eat anything but vegetables, nuts, and fruits that came off a bigger plant for a week, causing several fights and even more tears.

He only caved into eating proper meals again when his stomach started to truly hurt and his mouth began to taste funny and he saw Father crying to Mother after dinner one. Tyelkormo had to go out to the garden that night to lay in the dirt under Telperion’s light and cry before he could eat his breakfast bacon and spinach, though. He apologized over and over again.

Tyelkormo hated all of this.

He did not like ‘dead’, nor did he like ‘dying’ or ‘death’. He did not like that things could be ‘dead’, at all. He didn’t like that he didn’t really know how or why or what could be dead. Plants and animals, yes, he’d learned that they could die, but what about rocks? What was happening when Father went to forge or Mother to sculpt? Special Elves died. But Valar, Maiar, could they be dead? What about a loom?

There were lots of questions, and Nelyo had stopped answering him, and Kano would only tell Tyelkormo when they were totally, totally alone, which was almost _never._

But even when they were alone, he still hadn’t been able to make himself ask about… Miriel.

_Grandmother was special._

Tyelkormo wasn’t near as good with his words as Kano or Nelyo, but he’d still never heard of an Elf being ‘was’.

He didn’t want to think about it, about how he kept hearing ‘was’s’ and ‘dead’s’ everywhere now. He didn’t want to think about what made an Elf die. He didn’t want to know what… what _had_ made Miriel- Grandmother special. 

Tyelkormo was so upset all the time, bubbling over with questions that he didn’t want; like a kettle set on to boil by someone else. _Does a kettle die_ , he wondered, lying prostrate in the pumpkin leaves. Did the fire hurt it like it hurt him? Father always said his forge was dangerous and they were never to go in there alone, and Tyelkormo had understood that it was because they could get hurt. But what happened when you hurt too much? Could an Elf hurt so much they die? 

Did the kettle hurt when you put it on to boil?

Tyelkormo groaned loudly, nearly a shout, at the stupid, _stupid_ question. He rolled over on his stomach, kicking his legs and punching his hands into the dirt. He rubbed his nose on the ground. Maybe he’d find a worm. Then it would _die_ and Tyelkormo wouldn’t know what to do-

“Turkafinwë,” he heard Father say, and Tyelkormo shot up. 

He looked back, and groaned loudly at the sight of Father, looking back down and away from his face and bright eyes, brighter than any other Elf. 

Father was special. Father was like...

Tyelkormo had seen Manwë before, once and from afar when he came to bless Morifinwë’s birth. He glowed a lot. And the Maiar that Tyelkormo occasionally spotted riding the wind or running through the wood or gliding down the streams- who would laugh with him and wave- glowed, too, bright with their spirits and the stars and the Two Trees. They were less bright than a Vala, but more bright than an Elf. The animals and plants only shined a little, and always in the colors of Telperion and Laurelin. Maybe more glowing meant less death?

Tyelkormo looked back towards Father, who was moving to sit down next to him. He glowed as much as a Maia did. Tyelkormo glanced down at his own bare arms, and saw that he was not near as bright as Father, but then, no one was. 

Tyelkormo vowed to pay attention to how much people shined in the future. It seemed important. Despite the windows letting in the Two Trees, there had been no light at all in the abandoned room. 

“This batch of pumpkins is coming in nicely,” Father said, and Tyelkormo scowled.

Father was playing around the point, like he always did. Tyelkormo wasn’t some little kid trying to guess which hand the candy was in- he always won those games _anyway_ \- he knew all of Father’s tricks. He was trying to make Tyelkormo tell him what was wrong without asking. 

But Tyelkormo couldn’t say. He’d sworn not to. 

So, instead, he said, “Why is my hair not like your’s and Mother’s?”

It had been bothering him ever since he saw the tapestry, buzzing in the back of his head. 

Father’s mouth fell open slightly, and he raised his eyebrows as he tilted his head and looked away. They’d talked about this before, about how his hair was lighter like Arafinwë and Earwen’s, but still different from theirs. But never _why._

Father didn’t wait to answer long, but it was quite a silence by Father’s standards, and Tyelkormo was happy about that, even though he knew it was a wicked happiness. 

“That happens sometimes,” he said. “A child might have hair or eyes or features a little different from their parents. It’s because they’ve inherited something special from an ancestor, a blessing from some kin lower on the boughs of the family tree.”

“And me?” Tyelkormo asked. He knew the answer. But he wanted to hear Father say it. 

Father hesitated again, filling the moment by running his fingers through Tyelkormo’s tangled, filthy hair. 

“You inherited your hair color from your grandmother,” Father said, finally, his shoulders held back like he expected to get hit. Father had to know that Tyelkormo knew that Grandmama’s hair was the color of an oak tree, thick and curly. This was the point where Tyelkormo should ask about his other grandmother, and he could see from Father’s pinched eyes that he was dreading those questions. 

But Tyelkormo did not ask. Because he already knew about Grandmother and her hair, and knew when to leave well enough alone. It would be cruel to push further. 

He had also sworn. 

He did have to wonder aloud, though, because _special, special, special_ kept running through his head, “So I have a gift from Grandmother?”

Minutely, Father relaxed. He kept looking at the pumpkins, though, as he answered. 

“That’s what the legends say. The resemblance is a sign of… similarity. Some shared internal quality, or… or destiny. But they’re just stories.”

Father smiled, the corners of his mouth shaking slightly. His shoulders were still tight, his eyebrows hung low over his eyes. Father had never looked more like Grandfather before. 

Tyelkormo swallowed hard.

_They’re just stories_ , he told himself. Yes, they were, Father had said so, and Father was always right. So it was fine. Why was Tyelkormo shaking, then?

Tyelkormo pushed himself to his feet, and slammed his face against Father’s to give him a sloppy, hurried kiss. 

“I love you!” he said, then ran off, through the pumpkin patch and into the yellow squash, leaping over the cabbages. He dashed out of the garden, running for the edge of the wooded glen where he was only allowed to play a little. Tyelkormo did not wander far. Just far enough that he could hide behind the treeline, a place where he could not be seen. 

Then he punched a tree, once, twice, again and again, until his hand was bleeding. Tyelkormo was crying, but he’d been crying when he found the tree. Now, with splinters in his knuckles and skin missing and blood everywhere, he had a good reason to cry. Now, Tyelkormo could go running back into the house to weep into Mother’s skirts and let her hold him. 

Tyelkormo didn’t know how to stop crying. Kano called him a baby after they saw a butterfly trapped in a spider’s web while on a family picnic and Tyelkormo balled his eyes out so much they had to go home. But he wasn’t a baby, he wasn’t, he just… he didn’t want a gift from his grandmother.

Tyelkormo didn’t want to be like Miriel, the dead Elf. 

But he was starting to worry that he _was._

He had noticed that Father held onto him tight when they went swimming even though he knew how to swim, he did, he _did_ , he went alone all the time. And he saw how he wasn’t allowed to go bug-catching with the village children because his parents were too busy to supervise despite their being kids younger than him going. And he realized that Mother didn’t make him fetch wood despite Kano saying that, “he’s not that little anymore, I had to go when I was his age!”

After every instance, Tyelkormo had to bite his lip and stand tightly to keep from shaking, and he cried at night. _Just stories and superstitions,_ he told himself. Like Father said. The problem was, whatever Father had said, his body had said something different. And Tyelkormo saw it, he saw Father’s fear and he _didn’t like_ that his father could be scared. 

So, he cried and cried and cried, and kept his oath to say nothing about death, and he felt like screaming. 

Some two months after Tyelkormo and Findarato snuck into the abandoned room- which Tyelkormo almost wanted to hit Findarato for- Grandfather threw another party. He was dressed in nice clothes and toted along to the palace. Tyelkormo’s excitement and cheeriness felt desperate, though. He kept shivering in the saddle, despite smiling wide and bouncing. 

_It’ll be fun, it’ll be normal,_ he told himself. 

But Tyelkormo didn’t want to be near that abandoned room, with the dead loom and the faint tapestry. He hated the idea of seeing Grandfather’s sad eyes, and he hated the idea of Grandfather’s wife, Lady Indis. That a person could not just be _gone_ forever… but replaced. 

Tyelkormo didn’t want to be replaced. 

He didn’t think his family wanted him replaced either, because Mother held him steady on the horse and Father carried him into the palace when his feet started to drag. Nelyo smiled at him and promised they could play chase in the maze all day if Tyelkormo wanted, and Kano asked if he wanted to sing with Lady Indis. 

But did they believe he might need to be replaced?

Tyelkormo could feel the chill of Grandmother’s room- because it was hers, wasn’t it? Abandoned and empty and dead, Tyelkormo could feel her things as he walked through the halls to the bright and cheery garden rooms with Findarato and Turukano. He ate pastries, but they tasted too sweet somehow. When they played marbles together, he shouted too loudly every time something went right or wrong, drawing glances, and he didn’t know why. 

He wanted everyone to look at him, but he hated their eyes. 

Were they looking at him, or at his hair? At the dead Elf’s gift? At Tyelkormo or… or a ghost of some kind?

Tyelkormo had always heard stories of ghosts, but now they actually made sense, now they were actually scary. Now, he kept looking over his shoulder. He wanted to go home! But home wasn’t much better. 

All Tyelkormo could think to do was run and bounce and chatter until he was loud enough to drown out his own head. But he wasn’t paying attention to what he was saying or doing really. He just knew that Laurelin’s light felt nice and made things less nasty than Telperion did, so he slapped Findarato’s back, ran for the outside, and said, “You’re it!”

Before his feet could make it from the tile to the grass, though, an arm grasped around his middle. Tyelkormo was hauled off his feet and settled on Grandfather’s hip, who smiled at him with sad eyes. And Tyelkormo was shivering, and he felt wet and cold, and he knew his face looked bad, with his mouth open and his eyes scrunched. 

“Turkafinwë, you seem unwell today, should you really be-”

Tyelkormo screamed.

“Grandfather thinks I’m going to die!”

Fat tears streamed down his face. Tyelkormo could taste them, because his mouth was wide open, massive and ugly sobs and wails coming from him. There was snot and spit on the lower half of his face, sticky and cloying as he gasped for breath and had to expel it again with another howl. He’d squeezed his eyes so tightly shut that he could no longer see anything- and he didn’t want to- but Tyelkormo felt Grandfather’s shifting grip, heard his shocked gasp, and he cried all the harder.

Yes, Grandfather thought he was going to die. 

That was why Tyelkormo wasn’t allowed to play and why he had to hear weird stories and why Grandfather was always sad while looking at him. 

He wanted it to stop, he wanted Grandfather to stop, he wanted _them all to stop looking at him!_

Because when Tyelkormo was yanked away, he opened his eyes to see his father. And Father looked stricken, his eyes- grey, pure grey, not like Grandfather’s but the same color as Tyelkormo’s and the thread used for Miriel- were painted in shades of horror and terror. Tyelkormo cried harder.

“I don’t wanna die!” he wailed as Father carried him away.

He could hardly see by the time he was deposited on a bench in the garden. Tyelkormo knew that he could not hear the party any longer, and that Father was the only person-shaped thing in front of him. Father was kneeling on the ground, and he scrubbed a handkerchief over Tyelkormo’s face. It was scratchy when it rubbed against his red and raw nose, it pulled awkwardly at his lips. Father dabbed at the corners of Tyelkormo’s eyes and tried to clean up his cheeks, but Tyelkormo just kept crying, even as he quieted a little. 

He sniffed as Father pulled back, and blinked some of the tears out of his eyes. 

While Tyelkormo shook and hiccuped, Father watched him, his mouth agape and his eyes wide. He reached his hands up, and calloused thumbs ran over Tyelkormo’s cheeks, drawing his attention away from Father’s bright, sad gaze. His father’s hands were big enough to cup his head. They were steady and warm and thrummed with life. 

Tyelkormo felt safer just sitting there with Daddy, cupped between his hands. 

But still…

Father said, “Turkafinwë, you are not going to _die,_ ” and Tyelkormo did not believe him.

“You think I am,” Tyelkormo insisted, choking on another sob, “Grandfather thinks so, he does, and now _Nelyo-_ Nelyo’s been weird ever since he told me about Grandmother, and you said-”

“Nelyafinwë?” Father interrupted him, his brows furrowing and face growing thunderous. “Is that what you children were talking about weeks ago when you-”

Father cut himself off with a ragged sigh.

“Don’t be mad. Please don’t be mad at Nelyo and Kano. I shouldn’t have said that. I- I swore I wouldn’t tell you or anyone, I- I’m sorry.”

Tyelkormo started to cry vigorously again with a sick feeling in his stomach. It made him queasy and the feeling curled up into his chest where his heart hurt, his lungs banging against his ribs uncomfortably. Nelyo and Kano were going to be so mad, he broke his promise, he mentioned death in front of _everyone_. They were going to be in trouble and it was all his fault!

Father shushed him as a wail wound up Tyelkormo’s throat.

“Turkafinwë, Turko, please,” Father said, sounding at a loss, and more tears fell down Tyelkormo’s face. Father always knew what to do, he always knew what was wrong and how to make it right, but Grandmother was _dead_ and maybe this was something Father couldn’t fix. He never called them by nicknames, that he was doing so now _had_ to mean something bad, had to mean Daddy couldn’t fix death, had to mean Daddy was scared.

Scared for Turko.

Tyelkormo’s throat was so tight he could no longer scream and sob like he wanted too. He could only sit, shaking with the force of his fear and pain, quiet. He still felt freezing cold when one of Daddy’s warm hands cupped the back of his head and the other took Tyelkormo’s fingers.

“Turko, my love, what did your brothers tell you? There’s no need to be frightened, they’re young, they don’t know what they're talking about, I swear to you.”

Tyelkormo squeezed his eyes shut and jumped with the force of his next sob. He made a stifled, choked noise, trying to drag the words from his throat. But it felt agonizing, it felt pointless. He whined like a wounded animal and shook his head, trying to tell Daddy that he was the wrong one, that Tyelkoromo understood just fine. 

“I know, I know,” he gasped, “I know how dying works. Grandmother was spe- special, and _you said_ that I look like her and that I have a gift from her, and you and Grandfather think that means I’m _special_. But I don’t want to be!”

For the third time in as many months, Tyelkormo had rendered his father speechless. His hand shivered in Tyelkormo’s hair, his jaw clenched, his eyes narrowed as if to brace against helplessness. Father had to give a wet, lost sigh before speaking, and that told Tyelkormo all he needed to know.

“I do not believe you are going to… to _die,_ and neither does your grandfather,” Father said.

“Liar,” Tyelkormo whined back, “you’re lying! I’m not stupid, I’m not, I saw- Grandfather always looks so sad, and you’re always picking me up and stuff, and Mama won’t let me get wood or play without her nearby and I’m different! I’m always treated different ‘cause I’m going to die!”

“No!” Father insisted, voice rising with every word, “No, Turkafinwë, you’re not! I would storm Mandos, I would burn Arda to the ground before I let anything happen to you! You will not languish, you won’t- there will be no fading or loss of feä or anything! _There won’t._ ”

Tyelkormo just screamed, “You say that because you think it’s going to happen!”

He began to wail again, tilting his hair back as his crying returned in earnest, his hair growing wet and shiny with the force of his tears. 

“Turko, Tyelkormo, please. Please stop, listen to me, I- Baby, please it’s- it’s going to be alright, I’m sorry, I’m sorry I scared you. You- you’re-”

Father choked on his words. When Tyelkormo look towards him, there were tears, golden in Laurelin’s light, in Daddy’s eyes and on his cheeks. Tyelkormo screamed again, more tears welling in his eyes until he could not see. 

“I’m sorry, Turko, I’m-” 

Tyelkormo barely felt the rushed kiss pressed against his head. 

“I’m going to get your mother, I’m sorry, stay here, we’ll be right back. Nerdanel will- Mother knows how to make such things better, just one moment.”

Daddy’s warmth faded away, and Tyelkormo’s throat tightened to where he could barely breathe. Daddy was so bright, so full, so alive, and in comparison Tyelkormo was just a faintly glittering tapestry of a person. A dead loom left to languish in a dark room; on a stone bench.

No, no, Tyelkormo didn’t want that. He didn’t want- he didn’t want to die, he didn’t want to look at Daddy and Mama as he did. He didn’t want to be abandoned or replaced.

He wouldn’t be!

Instead… there was only one thing to do.

Tyelkormo slid off the bench- tears still streaming down his face- turned around, and ran. 

He knew every inch of the palace gardens, from walks with Grandfather and games with his brothers and friends. Tyelkormo, even though he could hardly see, was able to trace his way between the hedges and groves, leaping over flowers and hopping brooks until he found the small wall of the garden’s edge. The wall was still taller than him, though, and Mother had warned him about climbing counters and shelves and trees and walls. She said it was dangerous; that he might get hurt.

Ragged breaths coming out hot, Tyelkormo made a low noise in his throat. Leaning down, he ran forward. He jumped right before he got to the wall, reaching up. His fingers scrambled at the ledge for a moment, before falling free, and Tyelkormo hit the ground. 

He let out a noise as his back bagan to throb, and he would have cried if he wasn’t crying already. Instead, Tyelkormo stood back up. He walked further away, then ran towards the wall again. This time, when his fingers gripped the edge, he stuck his foot against the wall and pushed up. He was able to drag and shove himself over the edge, his stomach digging in the stone and his face scraping against the side and top. Tyelkormo pulled himself up and over the wall, then dropped himself down on the other side. 

He crouched on that side of the wall for several minutes, just breathing and his tears drying up. A watery smile spread across his face. _There_ , Tyelkormo thought to himself, _a dying person couldn’t do that._

His breath was still shaky, but his feet felt steadier. 

“I’m fine,” Tyelkormo said as he walked away. 

He marched through the tall grasses, making for the high buildings in the distance. He did not know where to go from the palace, but Tyelkormo did know how to get to Tirion from the palace, and from the palace to home, and from home… Tyelkormo could go anywhere. He could go to the woods! And when he did that, it would totally, truly prove that he wasn’t dying.

So, that was the direction Tyelkormo went. 

When his feet hit the cobblestones of Tirion, though, Tyelkormo brought his thumb up to his mouth to chew on it. He could see the rise of the gates far away, but everyone around him was much taller and sometimes he had to twist and turn around them to see. There were horses in carts in a very small space. Tyelkormo kept having to dash from space to space to avoid being smushed! 

And when he came to a fork in two streets, Tyelkormo realized he didn’t know which was to go.

They both looked like they led towards the city gates, but they… which way? Which way took him the right way, or was faster? This was not like going into the woods where every path could be the right path. Tyelkormo knew how cities worked, and he might get looped around. 

“Oh, no,” he whispered, standing in the middle of the bustling street.

He stood, face scrunched as he contemplated which way to go. Tyelkormo was about to close his eyes and point to decide, when he felt a tap on his shoulder. There was a lady behind him, who smiled. But her eyes contracted when she saw his face, which felt puffy and red to Tyelkormo. He could only imagine what she was thinking, but his guess was that it was pity. Tyelkormo scowled.

“Hello,” she said gently, “are you lost? Do you need help?”

“No. I’m fine!” he snapped.

Then Tyelkormo turned quickly and picked the left road, running off. He weaved in between the people as he dashed down the sloping road. Tyelkoromo didn’t pay attention to what anything looked like or where he was going, until he was sure the lady had not followed him. He could do this on his own! He climbed the wall, he was fine. And he was going to prove it to everyone, he was.

Then, Daddy and Grandfather wouldn’t have to be scared and sad anymore. 

Still marching, Tyelkormo craned his neck to look for the gates. But to his surprise, he could not see them down the end of the road. Instead, he had to look far right to spot the towers in the distance. Tyelkormo gasped. 

He whirled around, searching for a way back the other way, but he suddenly saw three more roads in all directions. He didn’t know how to go back. More than that, Tyelkormo didn’t know _where_ he was. He’d never been to this part of Tirion, and there were evermore people all around, going in and out of doors. When he looked around at the shops, there were none of the ones that sold gadgets and silks and paper and pretty things. There weren’t any fruit or vegetable stalls either, doorways with stacks of grain and rice. Tyelkormo walked closer to one building on his side of the road with a big glass window, and when he grew near he could see…

See-

A _pig’s head_ , taken from its body and resting on a white, red, and brown cloth. It’s eyes were open but there was no light in them, no warmth on its skin, no movement in any of its features. 

Tyelkormo knew it was dead.

A slight scream tumbled from his lips. He stumbled back, dashing across the street as fast as he could, running for a dark alley. Once there, he plopped down so that he would not be run over and started to sniff. It was dead, the pig was dead, and Tyelkormo had no idea where he was. 

What a nightmare. This was a nightmare! 

He curled up over his knees, and he bit his lip to try to keep from crying anymore. Instead, Tyelkormo kept shivering, small noises coming from his throat. He rocked back and forth, utterly unsure of what he would do. Perhaps he would die. 

Perhaps he’d already failed in his plan.

“Hey!” a loud voice suddenly called, and it rang a familiar note in Tyelkormo’s mind. He looked up to see someone approaching. The person had bright red hair, and- Tyelkormo noticed with a gasp- a beard.

“I thought I recognized that little silver head. Tyelkormo, what are you doing here?”

Grandpapa, it was Grandpapa! He was carrying a pack of grain and grinning, smiling down at Tyelkormo as if their meeting was something fortunate and not the result of him doing something terribly naughty. Mother and Father were bound to be angry, but Grandpapa didn’t seem to be.

Tyelkormo unwound from the ball he’d been sitting in, looking up at Grandpapa in awe.

“I-” he said, then took a deep breath. He was gaining confidence again now that he had seen a familiar face in the city. It made his resolve come back. “I’m going to the woods to be fine or die!”

“Die?” Grandpapa asked, raising his eyebrow in shock. That just made Tyelkormo’s chest grow hot with anger, and he scowled as he puffed himself up.

_“Yes_. Everyone thinks I’m going to die, so I’m going to go to the woods to either die away from them or live and prove them wrong.”

“I see,” Grandpapa said, seriously. “You’re trying to test your survival.”

“Survival?” Tyelkormo asked, shocked and tilting his head. 

“Survival, the act of continuing to live, the opposite of to die. That’s what you want to test?”

“Yes,” Tyelkormo declared with a punch of his fist, the word coming out in a rush of air in his sudden excitement. Grandpapa got it, and he didn’t sound angry or scared or sad at all. Finally. Someone who understood.

Grandpapa nodded solemnly, bringing a hand up to stroke his beard.

“In that case…” he said, “perhaps instead of the wood, would the grove behind Grandmama’s and I’s studio work? I understand, you do not want to complete your challenge near your parents, but we won’t be any trouble to you. And Grandmama promised to make cinnamon apple tarts, and I worry she might have made too many. Perhaps you could stock up on a few before you go live in the grove?”

“That’s not hard. Is that hard?” Tyelkormo asked, scrambling to his feet. He slowly inched towards Grandpapa, reaching out a hand to his belt. Maybe… a little help wasn’t bad. Surely. If Grandpapa could just get him out of Tirion, Tyelkormo was _sure_ he could manage just fine.

“Oh, very hard,” Grandpapa said, “There’s all sorts of nasty beasts and scary trees and treacherous rocks near the glade. A good place for any Elf to test his mettle.”

“My metal,” Tyelkormo repeated. Grandpapa was a smith- the _first_ smith- if anyone knew about testing metal, it was him. Tyelkormo nodded, deciding to trust Grandpapa.

“Okay.”

“Good boy,” Grandpapa declared, shifting his bag of grain so it was draped over his shoulder. He held out his other hand. “Let’s come along then, your grandmama will be wondering where I am. Speaking of, do your parents know where you are? You tell them about your quest?”

“No!” Tyelkormo cried, taking Grandpapa’s hand. “I’ve got to prove myself to them, and they’ll _never_ let me try. They think I’m going to _die_ , Grandpapa.”

Grandpapa hummed. 

“I see.” 

They walked along in silence, up the hill and into the more familiar streets leading up the palace. Before they could move towards the palace arch, though, Grandpapa turned down another road, the other road that Tyelkormo had been contemplating. Grandpapa then whistled and briefly raised the hand holding the grain on his shoulder, hailing a local guard. 

“Lord Mahtan,” the guard said, jogging over and standing up straight. Tyelkormo was not surprised that he knew Grandpapa. Nearly as many people knew Grandpapa as knew Grandfather. He was very smart and very popular and people often did what he said. 

Grandpapa only had to say, “Ser, could you do me a favor? Run up to the palace and inform Princess Nerdanel and Prince Feanaro that Mahtan Aulendur has their son Tyelkormo. Me and my wife will have the pleasure of having Prince Turkafinwë for dinner tonight.”

The guard saluted, then jogged off towards the palace. Tyelkormo watched him go, even as Grandpapa began to walk, pulling him along. Tyelkormo trailed after him, swinging their hands.

Finally, he said, “That was smart. Now Mother and Father won’t worry.”

Grandpapa nodded, but did not look at him. 

Tyelkormo glanced down.

“It was naughty to just run away and make them worry,” he muttered.

“Probably,” Grandpapa said, but he was smiling down at him when Tyelkormo looked up. “But now they know, so there’s no harm done. You can apologize the next time you see them.”

Tyelkormo shivered and his eyes went wide. 

Grandpapa thought he would see Mother and Father again, that he would be able to… _survive_ his test. Grandpapa wasn’t worried. He didn’t think Tyelkormo would die. 

Tyelkormo threw his shoulders back and walked even faster, determined to prove himself worthy of that belief. 

Grandpapa took him to the stables just beyond the gates, which housed horses for any visiting Elf who needed them. He set Tyelkormo on his old horse with the grain, then swung himself into the saddle behind Tyelkormo. Then they were off, making for Grandpapa and Grandmama’s home.

They lived in the opposite direction of Tyelkormo’s family, in a large area with many houses. There was a house for the students that Grandmama and Grandpapa took on- where Father had lived once- and several large buildings for storing materials. There were also the forges and the crafting studios, and the stables. It was at the main house where Grandpapa had Tyelkormo climb from the horse.

“You go knock on the door and give Grandmama a kiss for me, aye?”

He rode off with his sack of grain, making for the stables where a lamp was lit. The light was growing softer, the mingling making the stars brighter, and Tyelkormo yawned as he watched his grandfather go. He didn’t head inside immediately, instead standing in the grass and biting at his thumb. Tyelkormo was suddenly very aware of how hungry he was, tummy rumbling. He cast a glance at the glade peeking out from around the corner of the main house. 

He and Nelyo and Kano would play there all the time, batting at the oranges that grew in the trees and dipping their hands in the little run. Nelyo got stung by a bee there once, and cried all afternoon though Nelyo often insisted he was too big for crying. There was even a family of possums living on the edge nearer to the thicker woods.

What Tyelkormo heard now was an owl, hooting and trilling. 

The sounds made him shiver.

What did an owl eat? Tyelkormo didn’t know. But whether it was berries or bunnies, it was probably dead. 

“Tyelkormo?” 

He jumped off his feet, a scream coming from Tyelkormo’s lips. He whirled around and closed his eyes against the light suddenly pouring from the backdoor of the main house. When Tyelkormo rubbed his eyes clear of spots, though, he could see a lady with carefully bound hair, but her ears were peeking out from the curls, like always. 

“Is that you, Tyelkormo?” Grandmama called.

With a small gasp, Tyelkormo ran forward. 

He threw himself into Grandmama’s skirts, burying his head in her apron and wrapping his arms around her waist. She smelled like clay and paint and cinnamon. Grandmama brought her hands down to hold Tyelkormo around the back. She laughed.

“Well hello there. This is a nice surprise, a visit from my wild prince.”

Grandmama was warm, and warm fire light- red and orange and yellow- pulsed around her. Her arms were as strong as Mother’s, and she used them to sway Tyelkormo back and forth. And beneath her scratchy apron and the flour clinging there, Tyelkormo could feel how full she was. Not like Father, but still brimming with life and creation and emotions, all fluttering around like singing birds. 

Grandmama felt nothing like Grandmother’s cold room.

Tyelkormo squeezed around her tighter.

“Oof, and I do believe you’ve gotten stronger since I last saw you. A regular little Tulkas! Now, why don’t we go inside?” she asked, and Tyelkormo reluctantly stepped back. Grandmama sheparded him into the kitchen they’d been standing in the doorway of. 

“Sit, sit!” she commanded.

Then Grandmama turned towards the counters, fluttering around the pastries. She didn’t, Tyelkormo noticed, ask why he was here. Which was odd. Surely she wanted to know. Should he tell her? Father would definitely want to know such, Mother too, demanding answers, and that’s why Tyelkormo opened his mouth to tell Grandmama.

He closed it just as quickly. 

Grandmama hadn’t asked. And Tyelkormo was _fine_ , he’d gotten to the main house easily enough, and that was a victory in his mind. No, it was not where he’d originally wanted to go- but Grandpapa and Grandmama’s woods would work as well as the ones at home. And yes, Grandpapa had taken him here, but that was help. Not an _order_ , or a rule, or some prize to make him feel better after being forbidden from doing something. Help… help was fine. Tyelkormo was fine. 

Grandmama set one of the apple tarts in front of Tyelkormo, and it smelled more than fine.

His stomach rumbled again, and he barely remembered to mutter ‘thank you’ as he shoved the whole thing in his mouth. Grandmama snickered at him. Tyelkormo was eating his third when Grandpapa came through the door. 

“Nornolótë,” he called, “I see you’ve already started to entertain our guest. I hope you saved some of those treats, though.”

Grandmama kissed Grandpapa and Tyelkormo gagged. When he looked back, Grandpapa was eating one off the tarts, Grandmama’s hand pressing it against his mouth. Then Grandmama took the bag of grain he was still holding, walking towards the pantry. 

“I still have plenty,” she said over her shoulder, “but now that we’ve all had our dessert, we should actually get started on dinner.”

“What do you say, Tyelkormo? Still have room for dinner?”

Tyelkormo bit his lip, glancing towards the window, where Laurelin had been supplanted by Telperion. 

“I gotta...” he muttered, but trailed off. He looked towards the fire, where a pot lingered. He had spied the bread next to the tarts earlier, and he was still quite hungry. But he had to go prove himself. Before Tyelkormo could decline, though, Grandpapa interrupted his train of thought.

“You can’t survive on an empty stomach,” he said, already spooning stew into three bowls. “That’s only good sense.”

Tyelkormo could smell the stew better now, and he sat up straight. With hands reaching out to grab the bowl, and grinned properly for the first time that day. 

“Okay,” he said with a giggle.

Grandmama came back, then distributed milk and ale as Grandpapa set the bread on the table. They ate and Tyelkormo’s grandparents talked about their days, about the cooking and the organizing and the trip into Tirion. 

“That’s where I met this little fella. He was nice enough to accompany me home and let me bear witness to his quest.” 

“Oh? And what’s your quest?” Grandmama asked.

“I’m going to sur- _vive_ ,” he said, which made Grandmama give Grandpapa a hard look. 

“Ah,” Grandpapa muttered, “he’s going to test his mettle in the glade.”

“It’s strong!”

Grandmama hummed thoughtfully, giving a serious nod. 

She understood, too!

Tyelkormo beamed at Grandmama, who said, “In that case, you might need some supplies. Maybe a blanket- Wait. Mahtan, do you hear that? Horses?”

They all turned towards the window, where two riders could be seen in the distance.

“And that,” Grandpapa laughed, “would be our royal couple here to retrieve what’s theirs. Think I can deter them?”

“Do go easy on them. They’re still young, they worry easily,” Grandmama said. She leaned her head to the side so that Grandpapa could kiss her cheek.

“What?” Tyelkormo asked, confused. It wasn’t the bad confusion that had plagued him for weeks, though. Grandmama and Grandpapa’s bodies were lax and happy, their faces warm and open. Whatever they were talking about couldn’t be bad then. 

“Nothing you need to worry about. I’ll be back in a moment, once the guests have been sent away.”

“Why do they have to be sent away?” Tyelkormo asked as Grandpapa left, firmly closing the door behind him.

Grandmama gave a secretive smile and took a long sip of her drink.

“Because,” she told him, “they were uninvited.”

That made sense. Tyelkormo went back to his food. Grandpapa joined them a little while later, whistling to himself, and the three finished dinner together. 

After they finished eating, Grandpapa hauled Tyelkormo up onto the counter- somewhere up high enough that he never would have been allowed there at home- and Grandmama handed him a rag. After the water was fetched and placed in the basin, Tyelkormo’s grandparents began to hand him bowls and plates and spoons and forks and knives to dry. Though he didn’t dare question it, Tyelkormo gave a small gasp when he was allowed to rub the rag down the knife they’d used for the bread, trying to be careful around the sharp edges. He did drop one bowl that shattered onto the floor in a hundred pieces, causing Grandmama’s to cheer.

“A reason to make a new set of crockery!”

“You don’t have to make a whole new set, Nornë!”

“But I’m going to,” she said, giving a wink to Tyelkormo. Then she sent him off to fetch the broom, and had him clean up the sharp pieces of ceramic himself. By the time everything was settled- clean and in place and their bellies full- Tyelkormo could barely keep his eyes open, but he was smiling. 

He’d almost forgotten about his quest, until Grandpapa said, “Are you going to start tonight or tomorrow?”

“Tonight!” Tyelkormo said without thinking. Then he popped to his feet and hurried towards the back door. 

“A blanket!” Grandmama shouted behind him.

“It’s warm enough here that…” was the last thing Tyelkormo heard. 

Tyelkormo picked his way towards the glade around the side of the main house. It was hard to see the fruit in the trees at this time of day, with the silver light merley making the shadows clearer rather than anything else. But Tyelkormo knew there were oranges up there. 

He laid down in the grass, which was warm and soft, and it rose up to tickle his nose. Tyelkormo strained to hear the owl again, but it seemed to be gone. The run a little ways away was bubbling though, and Tyelkormo wondered if maybe there was a Maia there now. He’d look tomorrow, ask if maybe they could play. The thought made him feel… safer. There were all sorts of noises around him, chirping and chattering and whooshing and ruffling. Barks were far off in the distance, but none of it could drown out the sound of the stream. 

And when there was a rustling that drew to close- the crack of a tree branch being snapped- Tyelkormo sat up straight. But when nothing emerged from the trees or was shown in Telperion, he laid back down. 

_Other things live here_ , Tyelkormo reminded himself. Animals like the possums lived here and this was their home. 

Just like Tyelkormo would live here and make it his home, proving his survival to everyone. 

Then Daddy and Grandfather could stop worrying. 

Still listening to the burbling water, Tyelkormo fell asleep with that thought in mind. 

He woke not long after the morning mingling, when the birds were making the loudest noises. There were songs, but also just cries and chirps that weren’t very pretty at all. Just loud and annoying and fit to drag Tyelkormo out of his dream that he only half remembered.

He’d been running down long, dark hallways, chasing a silver person. A ghost. He knew in his chest that he’d been chasing a ghost, but he couldn’t remember where or why or what he wanted when he caught it. Maybe Tyelkormo had just wanted to prove that he could catch the ghost. 

Awake and trying to chase away the lingering feeling of helplessness, Tyelkormo sat up straight and rubbed at his eyes. He looked around the glade, where the oranges were all but shining in the golden light of Laurelin now and the dew was clinging to the grass and rocks. Tyelkormo felt a little wet himself. Good.

There was a lightness on his chest that hadn’t been there for a long time now.

Tyelkormo was alive! 

He’d done it!

Survived with no cuts, no scrapes, no pains. His heart was beating his chest fine, his breath was coming in and out normally. Tyelkormo felt nothing weird or bad at all! 

Except, well… He didn’t know what to do now.

Tyelkormo ambled to his feet.

Normally in the mornings, he’d go running to his parents’ or brothers’ rooms, jumping on their beds and hollering for them to get up. Then they could all go about getting dressed and eating and doing their little chores before it was lessons time. Tyelkormo liked to go with Nelyo to feed the chickens or inspect the garden best. 

But there were no rules or chores in the wild. No one to wake up either.

Instead, for lack of anything better to do, Tyelkormo walked over to the stream. He ducked his head down to look into the water, hoping to find a Maia but willing to settle for a fish or a snail. He didn’t see anything but plants and rocks in the murky water but Tyelkormo gently said, “Get up,” anyway.

He didn’t know if anything heard him or understood him, but felt nice to say.

And then, Tyelkormo was stumped. 

Had he done enough surviving? Maybe! But no, Tyelkormo quickly decided. Father always said that when something happened once it was just an ‘ano-ma-ly’. That didn’t count, it wasn’t scientific at all. Three times, that’s what Father said, three times was a pattern worth studying and trusting in. 

Which meant Tyelkormo surely had to stay out in the woods, surviving for three days. 

But how did one go about surviving? 

He supposed he just had to keep living. Which meant he had to… eat! Tyelkormo quickly dashed over to the orange trees. He took a rock from the ground, then slung it up into the branches. It hit an orange on the first try, causing it to fall to the ground. And Findarato said being good at marbles and conkers would never be helpful. Ha!

_I showed him_ , Tyelkormo thought as he peeled and ate his orange. 

Once he had squared away food, Tyelkormo didn’t know what to do next. In fact he was so thoroughly at a loss, that he merely sat in the grass tugging on his feet and rocking back and forth. Was he just supposed to sit here and… continue to live? Eat oranges? Tyelkormo liked oranges, but maybe not as the only thing he ate for three days. He supposed he could… play games? Explore?

But it wasn’t as fun alone. 

Tyelkormo fell back into the grass. As he humph-ed and crossed his arms, he started counting the stars he could still see. Maybe Father would be pleased if he practiced his maths while surviving. 

He had gotten up to twenty-seven when he suddenly heard Grandmama cry, “Tyelkormo! Breakfast is ready, do you want to come in?”

He sat up straight and looked towards her, standing halfways between the house and the glade, waving at him. 

Automatically, Tyelkormo responded, “No! I’m surviving!”

“Alright, darling! There’s hotcakes if you change your mind!”

Grandmama started to walk back towards the house, and Tyelkormo’s breath caught as he thought of hotcakes, sweet and buttery and with blueberries.

He hopped to his feet.

“Wait, I’m coming!”

The hotcakes were delicious.

As they were putting away the dishes, Grandmama asked him, “How long are you going to be out in the glade do you think?” 

When Tyelkormo told her, she hummed in delight. “How nice! How about when you finish your quest, we throw a small party to celebrate? Your brothers can come over, and your mother and father, too.”

“And Grandfather,” Tyelkormo breathed out. “Can Grandfather come too?”

“If His Majesty isn’t busy.”

Cheered by this and the chores done, Tyelkormo ran back outside. Grandfather would come and see how Tyelkormo survived! It would be perfect! Then they could have another party to make up for yesterday, and everything would be good. Everyone would be _happy._

And all Tyelkormo had to do was survive for three more days. 

Easy.

Tyelkormo was halfway back to the glade when he noticed the huffing and puffing of the forge in use. Grandpapa would be in there, Tyelkormo would bet on it. And he needed to know about the party! 

Tyelkormo made his way to the forge, eager to tell Grandpapa the news.

The door to the forge was firmly closed, as it always was, whether it was here or at home. Tyelkormo was not meant to go into the forge, hardly ever, but especially not without Mother or Father with him. His hand stilled on the handle because of that rule. But Tyelkormo only hesitated a moment, before he drew in a hot breath and turned the doorknob. Mother and Father were not here. He was _fine_ , and Grandpapa understood that. 

He stepped inside the forge. 

Stifling, thick wind hit Tyelkormo the second he entered, a warm wave washing over him from the fires and the smoke. The front room to Grandpapa’s smithy, though, had no hearths; there was gear on the walls and clothes folded neatly in cubbies. An open doorway was on the opposite wall, and Tyelkormo hurried through the empty room towards it. He follows the noises of the clanging and the grunting and the popping and the sizzling. 

It might have been the loudest thing Tyelkormo had ever heard. 

Certainly, the forge was much louder than the night sounds- the crickets, the run, the wind, the critters- that had kept him company last night. Even more so than the city moving at full speed. It was a little hard to see, as well.

Tyelkormo emerged into the main room, and everything was in flashes of grey and red. What smoke the chimneys didn’t capture was funneled through the slits in the ceiling, but it hung in the still air. The windows were clouded from soot, and as the light of Laureling mingled with the multi-colored lanterns and the flames of the fireplaces, a thousand shadows were cast. The forge was so bright that it was dark.

Grandpapa was lit up, though.

His back was to Tyelkormo, and he could see how his arms and shoulders rolled back with slow, tight power, before coming down. Then everything in front of Grandpapa exploded into sparks, lighting up with coppery hair and his broad silhouette. Tyelkormo paused in awe to watch him, to watch and hear everything clang and burn. 

His family did amazing things.

Grinning and proud- of himself, of this room, of his father and Grandpapa- Tyelkormo ran forward, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He dashed right up Grandpapa’s back and the anvil, scooting around the side to try and see his face, closer to the hearth. 

“Grandpapa!” he cried, “We’re going to hav-”

There was a flash and a jerk.

As Tyelkormo shouted, he saw Grandpapa move, his hammer sliding off the molten metal he’d been molding. His arm and the hammer fell closer to Tyelkormo, who fell back on instinct. He stumbled and tripped on the jagged flagstone. Then his back hit the clay bottom of the hearth. 

What Tyelkormo felt, though, was his arm. 

Pain flashed across his bicep and he jerked away in an instant. But his arm continued to burn and ache. Tyelkormo screamed as he felt the pain crawl up and down his arm, so bright and constant that it was paralyzing. He couldn’t even feel the tears that were clouding his vision, he was so focused on how it burned. 

All that lingered was the pain and the fear.

_I don’t wanna die!_

Tyelkormo kept crying as he was lifted and carried from the forge. 

He squeezed his eyes shut, and barely noticed as he was set down again. The world outside of the pain only started to come back to Tyelkormo when he felt a sudden coldness spread across his upper-arm. He gasped and opened his eyes. Grandpa was right in front of him, gently rubbing some upon his red, blistering skin. 

“There we are,” Grandpapa said as the pain started to fall away and Tyelkormo began to quiet down. “There we go, it’s not so bad. Thank Vairë your mother still doesn’t countenance sleeves.”

“I don’t wanna die,” Tyelkormo moaned wetly. 

“Well, you’re not going to,” Grandpapa said plainly, pulling away with the salve. The pain was almost completely gone now. Instead, Tyelkormo’s arm felt numb. He placed his fingers on his other wrist to pull and look, and that made another stab of pain come from his arm, though. The skin was violently red beneath the white cream there, and the sight and the aching starting up again made Tyelkormo cry more.

“I failed,” he hiccuped as Grandpapa came back and started to wrap bandages around his aching arm. “I’m weak and I’m going to die. I don’t want to be special, I don’t want- I don’t want to be like Grandmother-”

Tyelkormo dissolved into tears.

He gasped around them, thinking an endless darkness and a lady with silver hair awaited him, when Grandpapa grasped his chin. He gently lifted Tyelkormo’s face so that their eyes met. Unlike how Father had been when Tyelkormo had said such things yesterday, Grandpapa was steady, and he did not look as scared as Tyelkormo felt. 

“Tyelkormo,” Grandpapa said, his voice rumbling in a way that made Tyelkormo pause in his weeping to listen. “I do not know what you have been told, but death is not something that simply affects certain people. It lingers near all of us. You or I or your father or anyone could die if we aren’t careful.”

Tyelkormo sniffed, his eyes going wide. 

“Really?” he whispered.

“Really. Death… death is what happens when we push our bodies past their natural limits. This happens by not eating when we need to eat, not drinking when we need to drink. Death can come when we sustain injuries that we don’t tend to, which is why it was important that we treated your burn, see?”

Gently, Grandpapa moved Tyelkormo arms so that he could see the bandage. Tyelkormo furrowed his brows at the sight. So… it could have made him die? But only if Grandpapa hadn’t made it better. 

“That’s why we feel pain,” Grandpapa said. “It’s a warning that we are pushing ourselves further than we can go. You must understand, living and staying alive aren’t about just strength of will or about throwing yourself cavalierly at situations. There are not some people better suited for such things than others; we all face pain. What sets people apart- determines whether they live or die- is if people learn. Survival is about cleverness. About knowing which situations you can handle, and which you cannot. There are some things our bodies and minds and spirits can simply not sustain. Survival is about being clever enough to avoid or control or heal from those things. It’s about realizing that if we have been forbidden from certain places, like _forges_ , there is likely a good reason.”

Grandpapa raised his eyebrows pointedly, and shame welled in Tyelkormo’s throat.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I just- Everyone treats me differently and I don’t… want everyone to think I’m going to leave like Grandmother. But it was stupid.”

Grandpapa sighed. He stood, and sat on the bench next to Tyelkormo, on the other side from his hurt arm. Grandpapa wrapped his arm around his waist.

“The forge is very dangerous,” he said gently. “No Elf could withstand the burning of the fires or the weight of the metals or the cut of the tools. Everyone who is untrained is forbidden to enter the forge, especially when people are at work. As long as you understand that… I think we can let this go easily enough.”

Tyelkormo gasped a little, and blinked up at Grandpapa. He wasn’t going to get punished?

Grandpapa leaned in very seriously, though, and he said, “Now. Why don’t you tell me what all this about Miriel is?”

“You know about her!” Tyelkormo squeaked. 

“I do,” Grandpapa said with a slight smile. “I’ve known Miriel for a very long time, and quite well, too. She was a dear friend.”

A quiet moment settled around them. Tyelkormo drew in a slight, shaky breath, and looked down at his feet. He was filthy, and in his nice party clothes too. Had he ruined them? Would they have to be thrown away? Would they be-

“Was?” Tyelkormo whispered.

Grandpa gave a sad hum, pausing for a moment. Then he said, “I suppose you know that she’s dead.”

Tyelkormo nodded, trying not to flinch. Grandpapa hadn’t flinched. Not like Nelyo had, not like Father. He didn’t look scared of talking about… dying at all.

“Do you want to tell me why you seem to think that because she died, you will?” Grandpapa asked, tilting his head in curiosity. His steady gaze let Tyelkormo take a deep breath. Grandpapa’s calm made it easy for him to start finding the words, without feeling naughty or silly or… wrong, in some way. 

“Nelyo said that she died because she was special,” Tyelkormo said. “And then Father said… He and Mother and Grandfather treat me differently from Nelyo and Kano and Findarato. It’s ‘cause I look like Grandmother. Father said it’s a gift from her. And that I’ll… be the same as her.”

“Well, that sounds fair enough to me,” Grandpapa said, causing Tyelkormo to look at him in horror. “But what does that have to do with dying?”

Tyelkormo gaped at him for a moment, trying to figure out what to say. He eventually just shook his head rapidly. What was Grandpapa getting at? Of course Grandmother had everything to do with dying!

Grandpapa dropped a big hand on Tyelkormo’s head, though, making him look up again. Grandpapa was smiling slightly. It was a look Tyelkormo knew well from Mother’s and Kano’s faces, and it meant there was a trick being played. 

“Miriel was- _is_ more than her death, Tyelkormo.”

Tyelkormo’s eyes widened. More than… More than dying. He shuddered and leaned closer to Grandpapa. The tapestry and the woven smile on the silver lady’s face came to mind, along with the dead loom and the cold, half-finished projects on the floor. It had all been alive once. 

“Yeah?” he asked, desperately curious.

“The circumstances of her death were special,” Grandpapa said. “The likes of which I doubt we’ll ever see again. But before that, beyond that she was a rather incredible person. Miriel was an embroideress. And a weaver, and a seamstress, and she knew how to make most of her own materials. A very industrious woman, your grandmother, just like her son in that regard. She pioneered her craft and her legacy remains. She was also just fun to be around. I see that part of her in you.”

“Really? Really, you do?”

Tyelkormo started to bounce in his seat, and the jostling made his arm ache a little. But now that he knew that the pain did not mean he would die, he didn’t really care about it; it was easy to ignore. Tyelkormo wanted to know about Grandmother, about what she did, about… ways he could be like her without dying.

Grandpapa hummed, and said, “That temper of yours, for one. Running off to go live in the woods? Yes, I’d say that sounds like something Miriel would have done. In fact, one time she did leave Tirion in a huff after a spat at court to complain to Nornë. We had a very flustered king on our doorstep that night.”

Tyelkormo giggled. He could not imagine Grandfather looking like he’d been caught doing something naughty, like he was in a great amount of trouble. He tried to think of the lady from the tapestry, standing a head below Grandfather, taunting him and making him blush. It was very silly, and Tyelkormo liked the idea very much. 

“There was also a time when we yet lived at Cuivienen,” Grandpapa said with a wistful sigh, smiling, “when she snuck off from home against the advice of everyone around her. She had a habit of that, going to search for things to make dyes and cloth from. Miriel wasn’t a hunter or a warrior, but she liked to secure her own hide, and she was an explorer at heart, I think. She wanted to know how everything worked, everywhere. Miriel was at her best when she was left to explore the world around her and how she could bend it to her will. She was, also, very… excitable.”

Grandpapa ruffled Tyelkormo hair, leaning down to drop a kiss on his head. 

“Not a bad way to be, at all, and very nice things to inherit, too. I do think you’re like Miriel, Tyelkormo. But that means you’re a bright person, intune with the world around you, and endlessly curious. Nothing more insidious than that. Does that thought make you feel better?”

Did that make him feel better? Tyelkormo didn’t know, because he was sniffling. But he no longer felt… scared. Tears started to fall down Tyelkormo’s face but he was smiling. Hiccuping a little, he nodded, looking up at Grandpapa. 

“I’m not going to die.”

“As long as you’re not stupid.”

_“I’m fine.”_

“You’re fine, Tyelkormo. More than fine I’d say.”

A wet laugh fell from Tyelkormo’s lips, and though a dull ache still burned in his arm, he hadn’t felt this good in weeks. He was fine. It was nice to hear someone else agree. 

But, as he stared down at his filthy formal robes, Tyelkormo still knew Father and Grandfather probably didn’t agree. He knew that they were sad. He knew that Grandmother was still dead.

One time, though… Father told him that they were all named for Grandfather so that they could ‘carry a legacy’. That sounded similar enough to what he’d said about… gifts from ancestors. Having that from Grandmother didn’t sound so scary now. 

Maybe Tyelkormo could even use that gift to make Grandfather less sad. 

“Grandpapa,” he asked, “could you tell me more stories about Grandmother?”

“Of course.”

Grandpapa took Tyelkormo inside. Grandmama made a fuss when she saw his arm, and she prayed over it so that it healed faster, but hurt more. She scolded him terribly for going into the forge. Grandpapa just made faces over her shoulder. He fetched Tyelkormo an old tunic to redress Tyelkormo in, and Grandmama fit him in better sandals when she stopped being angry.

She kissed him and said that in punishment he had to help her with the chickens.

That night, after dinner, he sat with his grandparents in front of the fireplace and listened to them tell stories about Grandmother. Some were silly- a baby boar had once chased her up a tree, where she cried all afternoon for help- some were amazing- she stitched warm, fluffy clothes for babies while they were crossing the mountains, never faltering as they climbed- and some were sad. Grandmama said that she gave too much of her spirit while making her masterpiece. Neither of them told him what that masterpiece was, but Tyelkormo thought it might be the tapestry that hung in the palace.

Though haunting, it was still one of the prettiest things Tyelkormo had ever seen.

The stories still hadn’t run dry when Tyelkormo began to yawn. 

“I think it’s time for bed,” Grandmama said.

Tyelkormo agreed. As Grandmama started to shuffle him towards the bedrooms, though, he paused. Clutching at her skirt, Tyelkormo tentatively said, “Actually… I think I’m going to keep sleeping in the glade.”

Grandmama was silent for a moment, but merely raised an eyebrow.

“Well, it’s your quest, my dear. But I do beg you to take a blanket this time?”

“Is that important for survival?” Tyelkormo asked.

“Yes, it keeps you safe and warm.”

He agreed to take a blanket. 

Grandmama fetched an old quilt and dropped in his arms. “Miriel made it,” she said softly, and Tyelkormo’s breath caught in reverence. The quilt was blue and green and silver and white, and there were crashing waves on the pattern. It glowed faintly, like the tapestry, and Tyelkormo carried it- so big that he could hardly see overtop- towards the tree very carefully. When Tyelkormo laid down, snuggled in Grandmother’s blanket, though, worries of dirtying and ripping it faded away. The quilt was very, very warm; almost like Daddy was. 

Even though the owl hooted all night and he could hear other animals stalking nearby, Tyelkormo was not afraid. 

The next day- after gently taking the quilt inside- Tyelkormo shadowed Grandmama, helping as she prepared for the party. There was a lot of table dragging, and tablecloth fluttering, and utensil readying, and cleaning involved, and by the end of the day, Tyelkormo’s burned arm hurt. He got to eat the last of the apple tarts, though, as Grandmama prepared some dough for tomorrow’s baking. When Grandpapa put more salve on his arm later, it stopped hurting, so all in all, Tyelkormo wasn’t too bothered. He didn’t even have to put any more bandages on.

He slept in the glade again that night, just to prove to himself that he could. 

Tyelkormo did not want to cancel the party because he did not complete his quest, and also… It made him feel like Grandmother, sleeping under the stars at Cuivienen. Tyelkormo started to count them and wonder if she gave them made-up names like he did, if she sang along with the babbling run, if Grandmother slept best with the earth under her head. 

He dreamed of the silver lady again that night, and when he caught her skirts, she gave him a woven smile made of twine. But her eyes were Father’s. She took Tyelkormo by the hand and took him to a cave with a muddy wall and running colors of a ruined picture. 

“Remembered things are never truly gone,” she whispered, but Tyelkormo could not recall what happened in his dreams after that. 

When he woke up, it was with crust on his eyes and a heaviness in his limbs. 

“Irmo,” Tyelkormo muttered to himself. The sleepy sand in his eyes was proof, Mother always said that meant his dreams had been visited. After a second, Tyelkormo reconsidered his conclusion that a Vala had come to see him.

Could ghosts walk through dreams?

Tyelkormo was still thinking about it, munching on an orange, when he heard the hoofbeats of approaching horses.

The quilt still wrapped tightly around his shoulders, Tyelkormo took off in a sprint. He was able to round the front of the main house in time to see Grandpapa toss Moryo into the air. Nelyo and Kano were walking off with some apprentices to take the horses to the stables, while Mother and Father greeted Grandmama. None of them spotted him at first, but they all turned to look when he shrieked, “Mama! Daddy!”

Tyelkormo ran forward at full tilt. Mother and Father met him halfway.

They crashed together in a jumble, Tyelkormo shoving his hands into Father’s tunic and Mother’s hair as they fell to their knees. Both of them pressed against him, holding him tightly and trading turns placing kisses on his face. The movement and grips made his arm hurt, but Tyelkormo just laughed. He kissed his parents back. 

When they pulled back just a little, and Tyelkormo could see the harsh lines in their faces and their red eyes, his elation faded some. But he had been prepared to give his apologies and he started to babble, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry I ran off. It was bad and I shouldn’t have done it-”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” Mother hissed, but the effect of her anger was lost when she immediately smushed his face against her chest. “But you’re safe, baby. You’re safe.”

Tyelkormo leaned into the touch, happy to feel his mother. He looked back up, though, when he felt Father’s hand smooth down his head. Father’s eyes were nearly as sad as Grandfather’s always were, but shakier and louder. Father looked like Tyelkormo felt when he was in pain. 

He almost wanted to cry from the misery of it all when Father said, “ _I’m sorry_. Turkafinwë, I’m sorry I upset you so badly. I never meant to frighten you, or hurt you, I didn’t mean to _compare_ \- I’m sorry, my darling. I’ll do better.”

Tyelkormo reached out for Father, and was taken in his warm arms. Between the faintly glowing blanket and Father’s beacon, Tyelkormo was sure he was nestled between two fires. It was perhaps the best hug he’d ever received.

Father only let go when Tyelkormo said, “I forgive you, Daddy. I’m sorry for yelling.” 

_For saying stuff that made you so sad and upset._

But Tyelkormo understood that saying such things would just make Father feel worse. He pulled back with a grin, and showed Father the quilt. Though Father still looked sad as he ran his fingers over it reverently, he took Tyelkormo on his lap to explain every stitch. 

They made their way over to the tables set out with snacks and drinks later. Father went off to join Mother where she was talking to Grandmama, but Tyelkormo walked over towards Nelyo and Kano. Grandpapa noticed him as he approached and excused himself, grinning over Tyelkormo’s brother’s shoulders. When they turned to look at Tyelkormo, he had to catch his own grin.

“I’m sorry I broke our promise not to tell,” he said, reaching forward to grasp as Nelyo’s shirt.

“I’m sorry I made you promise not to tell in the first place,” Nelyo muttered in reply. He looked about as awful as Father had, and it made Tyelkormo surge forward to give him a hug. Nelyo punched him in the shoulder instead of hugging back, but he did relax.

Then Kano said, “I’m sorry that you’re both stupid! If you’d never asked and answered in the first place, none of us would have gotten in trouble.” 

Nelyo and Tyelkormo pulled back from each other to glare at Kano. When Tyelkormo jumped and tackled Kano to the ground, though, Nelyo did not move to separate them. He just laughed as Kano begged Tyelkormo not to spit on him. 

“Boys!” Grandmama eventually called when Kano started tugging on Tyelkormo’s hair, making his scalp burn. “If you don’t stop fighting this instant, you won’t be given any pie.”

They fell off each other, scrambling up and towards the kitchen. Nelyo, despite being behind them at the start, got there first, sticking his tongue out as he ran past them. Kano stuck his tongue out back, and Tyelkormo giggled. When pieces of pie were handed out, he sat next to Kano and kept bumping arms with him. 

He’d noticed that Kano hadn’t touched either the quilt or the red spot on his arm. Tyelkormo wasn’t sure he would have been that nice, so he spooned some of his filing onto Kano’s plate in thanks. Somehow, there was even more filing on Tyelkormo’s plate when he was done! He turned to his other side to search for any clues, but Nelyo wasn’t looking at him. Tyelkormo decided not to look too hard for answers. That had gotten him in trouble too much already.

They were starting to put the dishes away from the pie when Tyelkormo perked up at the sound of bells. He whipped his head around, and that was Grandfather, there was Grandfather. He was riding in on his lovely white horse with charms on its bridle, and Tylekormo ran out to meet him first. He had something to say.

“Hello!” he yelled as Grandfather swung himself down from the horse. Tyelkormo could see how Grandfather opened his mouth to start speaking, and he could guess what he wanted to say, how he was upset and sorry he was. But Tyelkormo was all out of sorrys today, both to give and get. 

“Grandfather,” Tyelkormo said, reaching up to take his hand. “I had a dream last night.”

Grandfather paused for a moment in shock, his sad eyes nearly bottomless pools of thoughts that Tyelkormo could not begin to decipher. After a moment, though, he leaned down and said, “Oh?”

Tyelkormo nodded.

“I did. And I saw that cave wall that you were talking about,” he said, watching Grandfather back change rapidly, then go very still. Tyelkormo held his hand tighter. “And it was all muddy like you said. But… I thought of something, even though I couldn’t see what you painted with Grandmother. If you remember what it looked like, it’s not really gone.”

Grandfather’s breath caught.

Slowly, he kneeled fully down on the ground in front of Tyelkormo. He held still as Grandfather brought their joined hands up to rub against Tyelkormo’s cheek. Then, Grandfather smiled with his sad eyes.

“Amazing,” he whispered. “My boy, I think you’re right. I think you’re quite right.”

“Grandfather? I’d like to hear more stories about Grandmother,” Tyelkormo said, wreathed in his warm quilt smiling as wide as he could.

“I’d like that too, Turkafinwë.”

Somehow, Tyelkormo managed to grin wider. 

He went to help Grandfather put his horse away in the stables, holding his hand all the while. They walked back to the party together, not speaking but quite happy with each other. Everyone else looked happy to see them smiling, as well.

“Well,” Grandpapa called with a clap as Tyelkormo finally broke away from Grandfather, “Now that everyone’s here, I do believe it’s time. What would a party be without presents? Tyelkormo, come here.”

“Huh?” Tyelkormo muttered in surprise, but he walked towards Grandpapa. 

In the background, he could hear Kano say, “Why does he get a present?” He also heard Nelyo hit him. 

Grandpapa gave Tyelkormo a wink when he got close, like they were in on a joke together. From the nearby table, he grabbed a plain, small box and held it up for everyone to see. Then he gestured dramatically at Tyelkormo.

“This little lad,” Grandpapa said, “had completed a quest. A quest… of survival.” 

No one commented the way Grandpapa seemed to have been hoping they would, but Moryo did make a cooing sound from Grandmama’s arms. This appeared to be enough for Grandpapa, who continued.

“I think he’s done something very special the past few days, fighting through uncertainty and fear and his own mistakes. Tyelkormo stuck to his task, though, and worked very hard to help around the house in the days and to survive the nights in the glade.”

This time, Grandpapa did get a reaction, as Mother gasped and Father made a choked noise, saying “He _what?_ ”

Tyelkormo was too busy beaming up at Grandpapa to pay much attention, though, so proud that Grandpapa was proud of him. That he’d done right. That he’d completed his quest and survived and was perfectly fine and happy.

Grandpapa smiled back, and it was only the two of them there. 

He kneeled in front of Tyelkormo and opened this box.

“Which is why I want to give him something that everyone trying to survive in the wilderness needs. 

A small, gleaming dagger emerged in Grandpapa’s hand as the box fell to the ground.

Tyelkormo gasped.

“Master, no!”

“Mahtan!”

_“Father!”_

Tyelkormo could hear his parents and Grandfather shouting angrily in the distance. But Grandpapa was grinning down at him. He opened his palm to show the hilt, and the dagger was Tyelkormo’s to take.

His hand was already reaching out, but Tyelkormo paused.

“Really?” he whispered.

“Really,” said Grandpapa gently. “I made it for you. What do you think I was working on when you interrupted me? Why, I’d say this weapon is doubly yours, because your blood and sweat went into its making. Even if it was the blood and sweat of foolishness. Let that be a reminder for you to use this well.”

Tyelkormo wrapped his small, shaking fingers around the leather bound hilt. His eyes fluttered shut once it was in his grip, and he could feel it; he could feel the light, the spirit, the life in this gift. Just like he could in the quilt around his shoulders. They were pieces of Grandpapa and Grandmother. And they were his.

Tyelkormo clutched his dagger, grinning ear from ear. 

>

**Author's Note:**

> This is the third story I've written about Bby!Celegorm confronting death, WHY have I written three stories about Bby!Celegorm confronting death? How did this happen, whose responsible for this? (Me. I'm responsible for this.) This time, the child's crisis is accompanied by Mahtan and his wife being great, Finwe being the remarried-widower who starts the plot of a Gothic novel by being just a little too weird about the whole thing, and Feanor is trying His Best. 
> 
> I like to imagine that in the background of this fic, Feanor's having a bajillion existential crises of his own, crying about being an unfit parent and a failure while Nerdanel is wondering when the Palantiri are going to be invented so that she can call her mom and beg for advice, because she's just as clueless. Meanwhile, poor Maedhros feels like the worlds worst brother, Maglor is an oblivious little shit, and Findarato is very pleased with his discoveries, not knowing what he's unleashed. The Nolofinweans are wondering why they didn't get featured except for me to roast literal toddler Turgon. 
> 
> I promise, boys, you didn't want to be involved in this mess. Also! I refuse to believe that the oaths made by baby elves to other baby elves are enforced by Eru. That is all. 
> 
> Anyway, thank you so much for reading, and for any kudos/comments you might feel inclined to leave! And thank you to Itarilles, because I've loved working on this project with you. So, Merry Summer and a Happy Reverse Bang to all!


End file.
